Catch and Release
by QLTales
Summary: Sam and Al go on a fly fishing trip, hoping to put behind them the events of the previous May see Mysterious Actions . Things start off well...
1. Prologue

**Catch and Release**

By: QLTales

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction. _

**Prologue**

_Present_

"He's dead, you know," the man in front of Sam taunted. "You didn't think I was going to let him get away, did you? I found him and I killed him," he said with a sneer.

"No," Sam denied shaking his head. "You're lying to me." He readjusted his stance taking a firmer grip on the gun he pointed at the man.

"Believe what you want but he's dead. I shot him right between the eyes. I could take you there so you can see his blood and brains scattered everywhere," the man cruelly offered.

"No," Sam denied again although with less confidence. He looked at the man in front of him. What did he have to lose by lying to him? Maybe...maybe what he was telling him was the truth. If that were the case... "Then there's no reason for me not to kill you," he said coldly. If this monster in front of him had indeed killed his best friend, he was going to pay for doing it.

The man laughed at the threat. "You don't have it in you. You're a weak coward. That's why he left you behind."

"No. I...I couldn't travel fast enough," Sam denied uncertainly. "My knee..."

Despite the gun being held on him, the man walked closer to Sam. "That's your excuse. You're nothing but a coward and you won't pull that trigger." He stopped with the gun a scant few inches from his chest. "He's dead and it's all your fault."

"No!" Sam screamed as his finger tightened on the trigger. He heard the sound of the gun firing as his vision turned to red…and he woke up in a cold sweat as once again his sleep was haunted by events he'd like to forget..


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Ten Days Earlier_

Verbena Beeks, psychiatrist at Project Quantum Leap, nodded as her patient continued his statement. The activities of the previous May had set him back somewhat but she felt in the ensuing months, things had begun moving forward again.

"Al thinks it would be a good idea to go away for a while." Sam shrugged, "I don't know, maybe he's right. But..." He stopped talking for a moment to gather himself then continued. "Sometimes I look at Al and I don't see my friend. I see a man who killed someone in cold blood instead. It doesn't happen a lot – hardly ever but when it does…" He shook his head slightly as the memories of the trip to Los Angeles ran through his mind. "I know he only did it because he had no other choice."

"Al did what he did to protect you, Sam. You know that he couldn't let you be killed." They had been over this particular situation numerous times. Sometimes Sam was angry, sometimes not. Today he seemed at least willing consider accepting what Al did as necessary.

For nearly three months, Sam had been trying to reconcile himself to what had transpired in Los Angeles and why. Although Al had never really told him, he'd always known that his friend had killed in his past when he was in Vietnam. "I understand that, I really do." He lapsed into silence again trying to order his thoughts. "I know Al's killed before. He couldn't have gone through Vietnam without that happening. It's just knowing it intellectually and actually witnessing it – and knowing it was because of me – it just makes it really hard."

"So you've said before," Verbena responded. Sam had occasionally voiced his wish to just forget that experience altogether. She looked over to the man who she knew needed to reconnect with his best buddy. "Maybe this trip will give you a chance to get back to seeing him as your friend and not about seeing him as something different."

"Maybe," Sam agreed half-heartedly. As he seemed to do during a lot of the sessions with Verbena, he got up from the couch and started to wander around the small office. He stopped by the bookshelves and started to turn the crystal paperweight that was there over in his hands. "What if instead, though, I'm...I don't know...I'm afraid of being alone with him or something?"

"Do you feel you need to be afraid of him?"

"No," Sam answered quickly. "I know Al wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"I think you just answered your own question then, Sam. You know Al wouldn't hurt you so you have no need to fear him." Verbena paused a moment, choosing her words carefully. "I think maybe getting away will give you a chance to confirm what you know to be true about Al. Where's he talking about going?" She and Sam had found a rhythm that worked. She still mostly worked by asking him to think through his own solutions but found that a few suggestions were appropriate.

"I'm not really sure exactly," Sam replied with a shrug. He put the paperweight back where he'd found it and ran his fingers across the spines of the books. "He was talking about going trout fishing at the beginning of the year. I'm not sure where he had in mind for it. I don't think it's local, though." Sam came back over and sat on the couch again. "He wants to rent a plane and fly us wherever it is he wants to go." A shudder rippled through is body betraying his fear that the idea of flying generated.

"You have a fear of heights..." Verbena started. That piece of information had come out in previous sessions.

"No, not that," Sam interrupted. "Well, not that exactly. I haven't been on a small plane since the crash." He'd related to Verbena at one of their earlier sessions the tale of plane crash in the mountains. He quickly pointed out, "It's not that I don't trust Al's piloting ability. I know he's a good pilot and that it wasn't his fault. I just can't get it out of my mind."

Verbena tilted her head. "It could show Al that you're ready to trust him more." Over the last few months, she'd seen the two struggling to get through the trauma that Sam's near murder and Al's action had caused. She knew both men were hurting and that getting back to their easy friendship would be good for both of them.

"It's not about trusting him. I trust him piloting the plane. It's the plane I don't trust." Sam sighed and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. "I've only been on commercial jets since the crash and half the time, I need to take anti-anxiety medication to even board."

"Well, depending on where you're going, perhaps you can take a commercial flight. You might bring that up with Al."

"I did. He seems to have his heart set on flying. He thinks it'll help me get over being afraid of small planes. Who knows, maybe he's right."

"He may be," Verbena agreed. "You know, Sam, you'll make your own decision about this trip but I think it sounds promising. Getting away from the project will take both of you out of the familiar."

"There's another thing, too," Sam said reluctantly. He had a feeling Verbena would think he was nuts when he told her the other reason he was reluctant to go away on a vacation with Al. "Things don't seem to go to plan when we go on vacation. I know it sounds crazy," he said chuckling slightly, "but I'm almost afraid of what could go wrong this time."

Verbena smiled. "I think you're just borrowing trouble, Sam."

"You don't know half of what's happened. If you did, you might not be saying that."

"So, you believe when you go with Al you're fated to have something go wrong?" She was keenly awaiting his answer.

"I don't believe in fate…as fate anyways. That would be saying that everything's already set and nothing we do makes any difference. It's just...if every vacation you went on with someone had something go wrong, how would you feel?"

"That life's full of road bumps," she quipped.

"Road bumps?" Sam repeated. It seemed the funniest thing he'd heard in a while and he started to laugh. "I'm sorry," he said when he finally contained his laughter. "I wasn't laughing at you, really.'

Verbena had been surprised when Sam started laughing. On the other hand, she was glad to hear it. The man had seldom let himself go since he and Al had returned from LA. Instead, he'd buried himself in his work and the sessions they'd had turned more on the recent trauma then Sam's issues with his family situation.

"I'm sorry," he said again wiping the laughter-induced tears away. "It's just that I think of a 'road bump' on vacation being something like getting sunburn or forgetting your camera not a crashing plane or getting stranded in a cabin in a blizzard." A few more chuckles escaped him. "Did Al tell you about the time in New Jersey with the alarms going off 'cause of the storm? There was a flood or something but no one knew what the alarms were about. I fell down the front stairs of the house we were staying at and ended up with my wrist in a cast for five weeks."

"It does sound like your vacations revolve around the dramatic," she admitted. "Look at it this way; you're due for a simple boring vacation."

"Statistically, I'd agree with you." Sam's laugher finally faded away. "I'm just not sure the statistics are really going to be with us." He came to a decision about the proposed vacation. "Oh hell, at least I'll have another story to tell my grandchildren."

"That's the spirit. So when are you going?"

"I don't know. If Al has his way, we'd probably leave today but I need some time to tie up some stuff here."

"Well, let me know if you need anything for the plane. I'm sure wherever you're going you'll have a great time."

"I think I want to try this without taking anything. Well, anything but Dramamine. I'm never going to get over being afraid of planes if I'm drugged all the time." He looked at his watch and saw that an hour had gone by since he'd arrived in Verbena's office. "I have a call scheduled in twenty minutes with Rob Motts," he said rising from the couch.

"Right. We're finished now anyways. Let me know your schedule when you know it." She paused. "I'm really pleased with your progress, Sam. Especially that the nightmares have stopped."

"Um, yeah," Sam agreed uneasily. He hadn't been quite as forthcoming with Verbena regarding the nightmares as he could have been. They still came from time to time but he didn't think it worth mentioning. After all, from his perspective, they didn't change all that much…only slight changes as his mind replayed the events in LA from different perspectives. They all ended with Al taking out the man who's knife had bit into his neck. Unconsciously his hand brushed at his neck as he explained, "I really do have to run and get ready for the call. If we're gonna have Motts out here by October, I need to solidify some stuff with him."

**********

Al could hear Sam inside his office as he prepared to knock. It sounded like the kid was on the phone and he considered turning away, not wanting to bother his friend. He realized that he was just as guilty of avoiding Sam since that situation in LA. It had been difficult on Sam. Hell, it had been difficult on him seeing Sam in danger of being murdered. To prevent that, he'd had no choice but to take action.

As had occurred many times since he'd pulled the trigger, the scene came flooding back to him. It was the results of that situation though that most bothered Al. He'd been hurt by the look in Sam's eyes after he'd reached his side. In comparison to the look Sam had given him when he was a washed up alcoholic on his way to being drummed out of the Navy, it was terrible. Then, Sam's eyes had told him to believe in himself, saying without words that he could see through the shell Al had built around himself. After he'd killed the psychopath in LA, it was as if Sam didn't know if he could trust... Letting the thought trail off, Al took a breath and knocked. He told himself that things had been getting better of late and he was certain this trout-fishing trip was what they both needed…if only Sam agreed.

Knocking, he heard Sam call for him to come in. He waited a moment, pulling a roll of Rolaids out of his pocket and taking a couple before pushing the door open, letting himself in, and going over to the sofa to allow Sam to finish his phone call.

Sam held up a hand indicating he was almost done. He finished saying his goodbyes and hung up the phone. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his hands over his face. "That was Motts. We ever get him here and I think it's going to be a small miracle. He's asking for a delay until the beginning of next year now."

"Why?"

"He needs another month to finish up whatever he's working on in LA so that means he wouldn't be here 'til November but he wants to go back east to spend the holidays with his family. What am I supposed to say? 'No, you can't be with your family.'?" He leaned forward and started to pile the open folders on his desk. "I know what can happen if you miss a holiday. I won't be responsible for that happening to someone else."

"That's not why that happened, Sam," Al started, knowing Sam was referring to the Thanksgiving before his father had died, and then closed his mouth again. He'd found in the last few months that the ease the two of them had felt around each other before was strained. He also knew that talking about such family related issues was something Sam tendered to hold close to the vest and right now, this topic wasn't the best to discuss. It bothered the hell out of him that they couldn't talk as freely as they had before but he didn't see there was anything else he could do.

"I know that, Al," Sam replied patiently. He knew Al had good cause to think he was blaming himself for his father's death since he'd done it so much in the past. "That's not what I'm saying. God forbid something does happen to someone in his family, I just don't want to be the one that kept him away. Getting him here's just not as important as that."

"Yeah. I see your point." Al moved over to the chair next to the desk. "So, have you decided?"

"Decided what?" Sam asked deliberately misunderstanding. "What I want for lunch? I was thinking the chicken potpies. Oh, and good choice on the new chef. Not only does he cook well, he's not keeping track of everything I eat."

Al didn't bother to tell Sam that the new cook actually did watch what the younger man ate. The culinary wiz just used the knowledge to make things he figured his new boss would like. "Yeah. I introduced Margarite to Dee Dee at the La Rive in Elephant Butte."

Sam made an exaggerated show of pulling a pad of paper out of his desk. "What?" he asked innocently when Al looked at him strangely. "I just want to make a note of where not to go for dinner...or lunch....breakfast...a last meal."

"She wasn't that bad, Sam," Al said dryly.

"She liked you. She wanted to slip some arsenic in my peanut butter."

Al rolled his eyes. "She didn't want to slip arsenic in your peanut butter. She just had a level of creativity that didn't fit in with the Project. In the right place, she'll be fine."

"That was creativity?" Sam asked in mock surprise raising his eyebrows. He started finding places in the desk drawers for the folders that had accumulated on the surface. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but that was not creativity. It doesn't take any creativity to drop the box of salt in mashed potatoes. I can do that."

"That was a mistake. You made her nervous, Kid." After a brief pause before Sam could reply, Al teasingly added in, "and you have dropped the box of salt in the mashed potatoes."

Ignoring the slight on his cooking abilities, Sam questioned, "Why did I make her nervous?" He finished putting his work away and leaned back in his chair. "Because I was in the same building? Face it, Al, she may have looked good but her skills left much to be desired. If I were you, I wouldn't plan on getting anywhere near DeeDee in the near future."

Al shrugged, deciding to let this disagreement pass. "Fine. We have a difference of opinion, but that's ok."

"I guess so," Sam agreed smiling. "I have good taste and you have no taste," he teased.

Al looked stricken. "You'd say that to an Italian?"

Sam looked up at the ceiling making a show of pondering the question. "Yup," he finally said when he looked back at his friend before he started to chuckle. "C'mon, Al, you're the one who agreed with me that Margarite was Chef Boy Ardee's sister."

"Well, yeah, but I think she has great potential and I think she was getting a lot better. Besides, my second...no...fourth wife couldn't cook a lick when we got married. By the time we divorced, she was actually ok."

"Well, there you go!" Sam exclaimed as if he'd made the discovery of the day. "All you had to do was marry her and her cooking would have improved. Why didn't we think of that?" He grinned broadly at Al daring him to disagree.

"Don't you think I pay enough alimony?"

"Hey, maybe this one would have worked. You never know."

Al narrowed his eyes at Sam but didn't then let the subject go, blowing out a breath. "So, have you decided...about the trip."

Sam's humor faded some but he gamely tried to hang onto it. "I talked with Verbena about it. She thinks it's a good idea." He took a deep breath then said, "I'll need more stories if I ever want to write my memoirs so...why not?"

"Stories?"

"Yeah. You know…something else to round out the camping and skiing chapter."

Understanding now what Sam was suggesting, Al responded, "Nothing's going to happen, Sam. We're going to have a guide. Hundreds of people do this every year."

"Exactly. Hundreds of people go skiing every year, too," Sam pointed out. "They don't end up with gangrene in an abandoned cabin during a blizzard."

"Aw, c'mon, Sam. That was a fluke," Al argued.

"Oh yeah? How about going camping but the plane crashes instead?" Sam countered. "Or how about the trip to the shore in New Jersey or when you dragged me to Las Vegas?"

"Ok, ok," Al said holding up his hands to stop Sam's enumeration of the various vacations that hadn't gone well. "So, we've had a bit of bad luck." At Sam's raised eyebrows, he corrected himself. "Ok, a lot of bad luck but it's changing. Nothing happened when we were in Hawaii in January."

"That wasn't a vacation," Sam pointed out. "We were visiting family."

"That's just semantics, Kid. You just got to think positive and we'll have a great time."

"I am thinking positive. I'm positive I'll have something else to add to the 'truth is stranger than fiction chapter,'" Sam quipped. "So, when did you want to leave...and where were you planning we go?"

Answering the last question first, Al started, "Idaho. I have two possible dates to choose from for you. I reserved to both of them and just have to let them know which one we want to keep. We can either leave this weekend or next. The trip is six days total."

"Pretty short notice."

"Not really. I'd booked them earlier this year." Al had actually booked the two weekends in May before they'd gone to LA but hadn't said anything until recently, not wanting to rock the boat. He tried to cover, "With all the work it sort of slipped my mind to bring the trip up…"

"Right," Sam answered, accepting Al explanation on the surface but understanding there was a lot more underlying it. Tapping a pen on the desktop, Sam mulled over which date would be better. If he chose the earlier, he'd only have three days before they left to tie up some lose ends. If he waited until next weekend, he'd probably be more likely to back out. "Let's go this weekend," he decided. He could get the work done in the time allotted if he pushed and then he'd have a week to relax.

"Great!" exclaimed Al. "I'll start packing the plane." This time he'd rent one instead of asking George again. As much as he talked to Sam about the younger man borrowing trouble, Al wasn't about to tempt fate. He knew that the plane would be checked out seven ways to Sunday and that's the way he wanted it.

"Whoah. Hang on. Don't I get a say in packing anything?"

"Well," Al hedged. "Sure you get to have a say, but I remember when we went camping before. You took a lot of heavy things so I sort of went over what we had then and went out and bought new where we could lighten up."

'Ok…," Sam agreed not pushing this explanation either, "but I want my old sleeping bag. It's not like it's going to be cold this time so I'd rather something I can move in and be comfortable."

Al rubbed the back of his head. "Um, Sam? We're going to Idaho. Sure a summer bag would be better, but yours is still pretty heavy."

"I don't care, Al. I'll compromise on anything but that. I like my sleeping bag. It's comfortable. I want to sleep comfortable." Sam was firm on this point. It was going to take a lot for him to bend.

"You just didn't like the one I got you last time because it was a mummy bag and you couldn't move your legs much. You can have a regular rectangular one on this trip. I just think it would be better if you had something lightweight."

"No," Sam replied stubbornly. "I'm willing to give on anything but that. No one's telling you to carry it. I want mine."

Al shrugged, giving in.. "Ok, Kid. I tried."

"Thank you." Still maintaining his firm stance, Sam continued, "You better make room for my book, too. I'm not leaving it behind anywhere this time."

"No problem, Kid. I know it means a lot to you." Al meant that. He had, in fact, had the page professionally restored to the book after they'd returned from Colorado.

"I was kidding," Sam informed his friend when he so seriously assured him there'd be room for the book. "I've learned my lesson and I'm not taking it in harm's way again." He was touched that his friend was so willing concede the point, though. The old hard-cover copy of _The Call of the Wild_ had been a gift from his father when he was a child. He'd taken it on every camping trip he'd been on since. After the fateful plane crash, he'd been forced to leave it behind to lighten his pack. Al had gone back and rescued the book for him after their rescue while he'd lain in a coma in the hospital. He firmly believed it was hearing Al read the book to him that led him to finally wake up. "It means a lot to me that you wouldn't mind if I took it."

"I know how important it is to you, Kid."

"What else are we going to need to bring with us on this trip?" Sam reached into his pocket withdrawing a ring of keys. Selecting the proper one, he locked the lower drawer of his desk where he'd put most of the files.

"Well, I've purchased a fly rod for you and the additional equipment you'll need for fishing. I've even tied a few flies for you." He looked over to Sam. "You do know we don't keep the fish we catch, right?"

"We don't? So what's the point? I thought we spent the day fishing and then ate what we caught for dinner at night."

Al shook his head. "Nope. In fly fishing it's about getting the fish, not about keeping it."

Sam got up from the desk and started walking toward the door, Al behind him. "So no trout cooked over an open fire for dinner?" he asked disappointed. "I'm still not sure what the point is, then."

"Why do you do martial arts, Sam?"

"Because I was tired of getting my ass kicked when I was a kid." Sam quickly replied. "And what does that have to do with fishing?"

"You don't get any value out of the more esoteric aspects of the art?"

"I keep in shape and it helps me concentrate. I'm not sure how the two are related." He pulled open the door leading the way to the elevator banks.

Not sure whether Sam was being deliberately obtuse on not, Al clarified, "Fly fishing is about the zen of fishing."

"Zen of fishing?" Sam questioned shaking his head. "All this time I thought it was about catching your own dinner. So, if we don't eat what we catch, what do we eat and don't tell me freeze-dried."

"No, not freeze-dried so don't worry about that. That's why we have a guide. We'll likely have some of the equipment brought in on horse back. This time it will be fresh food unless something comes up."

"But no trout?" The elevator doors opened and Sam got on nodding to the other two occupants. "Ok. I still don't get the whole point of it but I'll give it a try."

Al sighed. "It's about the hunt, Kid, not about the kill."

Sam didn't say anything but at the word 'kill', he paled and his breathing sped up. He moved a fraction of an inch away from Al before he stopped himself from moving anymore. He looked at his friend guiltily realizing what he'd done.

Al felt a distinct change in Sam's attitude and internally kicked himself. He'd been hoping the trout fishing would show Sam he was still the same Al.. Now, with one word, he may have caused the kid to bolt. "You still want to go, Sam?" he asked, steeling himself to the possibility, not sure of what the answer would be.

Looking at the other two occupants of the elevator, Sam knew this wasn't the place to let his memories start to haunt him. "Yeah, I still want to go," he answered. Although he answered firmly, he didn't sound quite as confident as he did before.

"Ok. I'll give you a call tonight about the packing."

"Why do you have to call?" As he asked the question, Sam realized that lately he and Al hadn't spent much time together outside of the project and when they did, it wasn't always relaxed. He suddenly realized that the shopping for the lighter equipment as well as the flies Al had tied likely had been done since LA. Well, if their vacation were to be relaxing, now would be a good time to start spending time together again. "We can grab something for dinner or something when we leave here then go back to my place and you can make sure I don't pack the kitchen sink."

"That would be nice, Sam," Al replied, his face clearly showing he'd be glad to get together with his friend. "I can spring for Chinese if you want."

"Chinese sounds good," Sam said agreeably. The elevator doors opened up on the cafeteria level. "We can call in an order to the Hungry Dragon and pick it up on the way...um...if you want," he offered tentatively.

"Yeah. Sounds good, Kid." They both got off and moved towards the cafeteria line. Al was feeling better than he had for awhile. He told himself he was going to make sure this was the best vacation Sam ever had.

12 of 12


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Al met Verbena down in the parking lot. He'd already packed most of the things they needed in the plane the day before. Now he was going to meet Sam at the small airport outside town. The last three days had almost seemed like old times with he and Sam spending more time together. He threw the last bag he needed in the small trunk. "So, you ready to drive the Cherry Dream back?"

"Cherry Dream?" Verbena asked with a small laugh. "Where'd you come up with that one?"

"Well," Al reasoned, "She's cherry red and she drives like a dream."

Shaking her head slightly, Verbena comment, "How very original." She got in the car when Al held the door open for her. Once he was settled in the driver's seat she said, "Thanks for letting me borrow the Cherry Dream while you and Sam are away. The rental was really starting to add up."

Al shrugged. "You're just lucky we had that conversation by the pool. It's too bad your car needed all that work. I would have never imagined you being so knowledgeable about muscle cars. One wouldn't think it to look at you."

"And just why would that be, Admiral Calavicci?"

"What? Not expecting you to know about muscle cars or the fact that I wouldn't let many people borrow it?" Al asked as he pulled out and set the car in motion towards the airport.

"Both, I guess," Verbena said after a moment's thought. Casually she asked, "Would you let Sam drive it?"

"Well, he's pretty good with cars and he's mostly a careful driver so yeah, I guess I would." He thought for a moment more. "He drove my previous car a few times but he hasn't driven this one yet."

"Mostly?" Verbena questioned. "Don't tell me the original Boy Scout has had some traffic run-ins."

Almost conspiratorially he told her, "Well, he occasionally will go over the speed limit." Then conceding that in comparison, that wasn't too bad he added, "Not like me, of course."

"Oh, I'm sure not like you at all," Verbena agreed. "I'm sure you've never gone over the speed limit in your life."

Al's eyes narrowed slightly, but his face belied any animosity. "You're really a riot sometimes, you know that?"

"You know I try," Verbena answered lightly before changing the subject slightly. "How are things between you and Sam?" Quickly she clarified, "I'm not asking as his therapist. I'm asking as your friend and his."

"I know," Al answered before letting out a breath. "I'm hoping this trip's going to help erase what happened in LA...for both of us." Al hadn't really talked much about what had gone down with Verbena, including his guilt at allowing Sam to be used as bait. Although Sam himself had insisted, Al felt that if he'd pushed to nix the idea, then the past few months wouldn't have been as strained. Seeing Verbena's look he added, "I mean…I know it can't really erase what happened…maybe reset things would be a better choice of words."

"Yeah. Reset's a good way to say it. I'm sure this trip will help," Verbena said confidently. "I'm not saying that based on anything that Sam's told me. You know I can't talk about that. I just know what good friends the two of you are. With a little time, you'll be back where you were. It's what you both want."

Al nodded. "Yeah." He glanced over to her. "Don't get me wrong, this summer's been great from the standpoint of getting to know you and my tan hasn't been this good for at least four years but..." He trailed off.

"But you miss your friend," she finished for him. She paused for a moment then said, "He misses his friend, too." It wasn't revealing anything Sam had told her during a session. It was something anyone observing the two of them could see. She heard some of the talk around the project wondering what had gone on between the two men.

"Yeah," Al said, falling silent afterwards. He quickly picked back up with the other subject again. "Now you know I've got the cover for the car. You'll use that right?"

"Yes, Al," Verbena sighed. It had to be at least the tenth time he'd asked her the same thing. "If you'd like, I'll make sure I give it a bottle and teddy bear as well but I draw the line at burping it."

"You think I'm obsessive, right?"

She gave the question some thought before answering with forced seriousness. "No, I wouldn't say you're obsessive. My professional opinion would be that you've become overly emotionally attached."

Al laughed again. "You're all right, Verbena." He pulled into the airport, driving to the tarmac where the plane was waiting. Sam hadn't arrived yet. He stopped the car and got out retrieving the bag. Looking at his watch, he scanned the horizon. "Sam's late." Unnecessarily, he turned to Verbena. "He's hardly ever late."

"Relax, Al. He might have just hit traffic or he might have had to make a stop on the way. He'll be here." She also scanned the horizon and noticed a vehicle starting to approach. "I bet that's him now."

Al looked as well and nodded. "Yeah. It's his Jeep." He was surprised at the relief he felt.

"See, you were worrying for nothing." As the Jeep pulled closer, Verbena waved at Sam.

Sam parked the car and got out. "Am I late?" he asked as he went to retrieve his bag from the back.

Al had composed his features and turned back. "A little. Nothing to worry about."

"Sorry. I had to make a stop." Sam reached into the front seat of the Jeep and pulled out a small bag. He took the contents out and showed it to Verbena and Al. "I didn't want to try getting on that tin can without any of this."

Al looked at the box of Dramamine. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea, Sam."

"I know you weren't exactly thrilled the first time you rented a plane and took me flying and ended up having to get it cleaned. I told you if you kept doing those loops, I wasn't going to be responsible. I figured I'd better make sure it didn't happen again."

Standing off to the side, Verbena watched the interaction between the two men. It was as she'd told Al - they both wanted the same thing.

Al nodded. "Yeah. Well, I'm not doing any loops today. Just a straight flight."

"How long of a flight?" Sam asked nervously as he handed his bag over to Al.

"About four hours, Sam."

"I can still give you something if you need it," Verbena offered. "It's up to you."

Sam looked at the plane they would soon be boarding then back to Verbena. "No," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. "I have to do this. I can't be afraid of it forever."

"Ok, Sam. If that's what you think is best."

Al waited until Sam and Verbena had come to a decision about Sam needing something to make the flight easier before saying, "Ok, Kid. Drop your gear and then you'll have to park your car in the lot. Verbena, can you drive out with him and bring him back?" He ignored the question that Sam had asked him as he turned and started checking over the plane. The answer would come soon enough once they were in the air.

"Of course I can," Verbena agreed.

Sam got in the Jeep and Verbena got into Al's car and followed behind him to the parking area. Once the Jeep was parked, Sam got in beside her. "You doing ok?" she asked him.

"I'm not too crazy about the plane but I'm ok," Sam answered. He looked out the passenger window and then back to Verbena. "It's gonna work out. We need this."

"I know it's going to work out for you," she agreed. "You both want it too much not to work it out. Just remember to relax."

The smile Sam gave her showed that was his plan as well. He then turned to look towards the plane. "I guess he's finished checking out our ride."

"Looks like it," Verbena agreed.

Al saw the two returning and walked towards the car as it stopped. "So, you ready, Kid?"

"I guess so," Sam replied getting out of the car. He had a bottle of water and the box of Dramamine in his hand.

Al smiled. "Ok, then." To Verbena, he said, "Thanks again for getting me here. Sam should be able to drop me off when we get back sometime next Sunday."

"Have a good time…and Sam." Verbena waited until the younger man turned to her. "Try to relax and have fun."

"I will...as soon as we're on the ground again."

Al sighed. "This is going to be a lot shorter trip, Sam. Newer plane and we'll only be in the air about four hours."

"That's about three hours and fifty minutes longer than I'd like. Let's get it over with though." He turned to Verbena and gave a small wave. "See you when we get back."

"Ok, Kid, you know the drill. Hop on in and let's get this baby in the air." Al had already filed his flight plan, had fueled, and was ready to go.

Sam looked at the plane dubiously, heaved a breath then did as Al told him. As soon as he was belted in his seat, he opened the box of medicine and took out the recommended dosage. "Maybe I'll get lucky and this'll just knock me out," he said before taking the medication followed by a mouthful of water.

Al gave Sam a smile and then started the plane, quickly moving onto the runway based on the instructions from the control tower. Within minutes, they were up in the air. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Sam shook his head ever so slightly in answer to Al's question but didn't open his eyes that he'd squeezed shut. The box of Dramamine he still held was crushed in his hand.

Al reached over and took the box out of Sam's hand, pulling at it to loosen his grip. "Good thing these are well packaged, otherwise they'd be dust."

"What are you doing?" Sam gasped when he felt Al pulling on the box. "You're supposed to be flying this thing."

"Now that we're at cruising altitude, I've got the auto pilot on," Al said soothingly. "It's sort of like cruise control in a car." Seeing Sam's face he smiled, reassuringly, "Don't worry, Sam, I'm still watching everything."

"O..ok..." Sam agreed. "Just promise me no detours this time. There is nothing out there you could show me that I could possibly want to see." He leaned his head back and, with his eyes still closed, started to breathe deeply and evenly using some of the techniques he'd learned in his martial arts. With any luck, that would help keep him calm until the Dramamine kicked in and then maybe he'd just sleep for the rest of the flight. "

Al looked over at Sam, trying to calm himself. "No detours but we'll be flying over the Grand Canyon. It's an awesome sight," he told him.

Sam stopped his breathing exercise long enough to say, "I'll take your word for that," before resuming it once more. He'd had a hard enough time looking down into the Grand Canyon while standing on terra firma. He was certain it wouldn't be any better doing it from the air.

Al decided that perhaps talking wasn't what Sam wanted at the moment and concentrated on being up in the wild blue yonder again. He had to admit he'd missed it.

About twenty minutes into the flight, Sam could feel the Dramamine start to take effect. As he started to become drowsy, the tenseness melted away from his body. He chanced opening his eyes and looking in Al's direction. "I think it's starting to work. I don't feel like my breakfast is going to come up anymore."

"That's good. I wouldn't really want to spend the next three hours plus smelling puke. I doubt you'd like that either."

Sam groaned slightly at Al's descriptive language. "Don't unless you really want to. I said it's starting to work not that it is. You know," he continued thoughtfully, "I couldn't ride the merry go round when I was a kid."

"Really? That was one of Trudy's favorite rides. Got to take her to a carnival once. That's all she wanted to do. She was fascinated by the horses."

"The last time I was on one I was ten at the County Fair. I ate a caramel apple then got on it. I wouldn't eat caramel apples again for about 5 years. It's just all that up and down and round and round." Sam stopped himself and pressed his lips tightly together.

Al noticed Sam's face. He nodded his head towards a compartment door. "I've got some plastic bags in the middle compartment. If you are going to..." He decided he should use more delicate language, "...um...do something, using one of them would be a good idea."

"I'll keep that in mind." Sam settled back in his seat closing his eyes again. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend he was in a car on the ground. "Where are we going again?"

"Well, tonight we're going to stay in Vegas...then tomorrow..."

Al didn't get any further as Sam made his feelings regarding a stay in Las Vegas known.

At the mention of their destination, his eyes popped back open. "Vegas?! You didn't say anything about going to Las Vegas. You said trout fishing. You know I hate Vegas."

"We're just staying overnight, Kid." Al had a feeling that a prospective layover in Las Vegas wouldn't sit well with Sam. That's why he'd waited until now to spring it on him. "That's why it's only four hours today. I figured with your aversion to flying that's about all you could take so I cut the trip into two days. Vegas is about halfway."

"Just tell me I don't have to go into a casino, please." Sam begged. Las Vegas was at the top of the list of places Sam did not enjoy visiting. He couldn't remember a trip there that he'd enjoyed. The last time he'd gone was when Al had dragged him a couple of years ago. He'd spent most of that trip in the room sick with a migraine headache. Since then, he'd avoided any trips to Las Vegas.

"If you don't want to, you don't have to," Al agreed. He wasn't going to force the kid to do something that made him uncomfortable. That would only get the trip off on the wrong foot. "Course if you want to go anywhere you'll probably have to pass through one or two."

"I don't want to," Sam reiterated firmly. "I'd rather just stay in the room until it's time to leave." Sam looked over to Al. "And don't call me a spoilsport just because I don't get a thrill out of the flashing lights and ringing bells."

"You know, Sam, there are a lot of things to do in Vegas. Gambling in casinos is only one pastime."

"I'm sure there is. I'd rather just pass on it if you don't mind." Sam settled once more closing his eyes and trying to put himself in the mindset of not being up in the air once more. "If it's only overnight, I'm not going to miss much."

"Depends on how you fill your time," Al observed.

"If that means what I think it means, we better have separate rooms," Sam said warningly.

"Already booked, Kid. They're adjoining, but that's all."

"Good." Sam looked over to Al, a small smile playing around his mouth. "I wouldn't want to cramp your style."

"No chance of that, Kid," Al said smiling back.

The Dramamine along with the fact that Sam hadn't slept well the night before and the rhythm of the plane conspired to cause him to doze through the rest flight. Al spent his time reveling in the flying itself. It felt good to be back in the air. It felt free.

As the plane hit the runway after the uneventful flight, Sam was suddenly jostled awake. "Wha...what's happening," he asked as he looked around nervously.

"Nothing, Sam," Al said soothingly. "We're just landing. I let you sleep. You looked like you needed it."

"Oh." Sam peered out the window and saw they were on the ground once more. "We're here already. It didn't seem that long."

"We made good time. Got here in 3 hours and 55 minutes. You missed some great views though." The plane was firmly on the ground now and Al was taxiing to the hanger where the plane would rest for the night.

"That's ok," Sam quickly answered. "I'll just take your word for it." He stretched as much as he could trying to work out the stiffness from sleeping in an awkward position. "Where are we staying?"

"Caesar's Palace. Same place we stayed last time we were here."

"It's not going to be the same mix up with the rooms this time like it was last time, is it? Don't get me wrong, that suite was great but seeing you almost blow a gasket wasn't really the highlight of my day."

"Not going to happen this time. I called this morning and confirmed the reservation and I have the confirmation numbers with me." Al finished securing the plane and the two were picked up by the town car he had arranged for. Once settled in the back seat, Al noted Sam's long face. "What's the matter, Kid?"

"Nothing, really," Sam said trying to deflect any of Al's concern. "It's just that...well, I thought we were doing this whole vacation thing together because things have been a little strained since we got back from Los Angeles. I just don't see how we're going to accomplish anything if we're in two different places."

"It's only one night, Sam. We'll be spending the next six in a stream fishing or a tent together. Don't you think that will be close enough? Besides, like I said, I didn't want to have you in the plane more than about four hours. Vegas seemed to be a perfect layover."

"For you, maybe. You seem to thrive here." Sam looked out the window at the passing scenery. "I just don't feel like I belong when I'm here." A thought occurred to him and he turned back to Al. "Does this mean we're going to stop here on the way home?"

Al nodded. "As I said, Sam, it's a logical place for a layover." Seeing Sam's reaction to that, he amended. "We don't have to, though. I could just refuel but that would mean an 8-hour trip in the plane. You really want that?"

"I guess we can just figure it out then, can't we. I don't like the idea of an 8 hour flight but I'm not too keen on spending anymore time in Vegas than I have to."

"You know, if you gave the place half a chance, you might find it more enjoyable."

"I've given it half a chance, remember. I have to pass over anything that requires skill and those 'games of chance' bore me."

Al sighed, again trying to get Sam to see something beyond the stereotypical gambling town. "That's not all Vegas has to offer, Sam. There are the shows, there's great outdoor activities, and there are some interesting scientific research areas within driving distance."

"Al," Sam sighed, "I don't like it here and that's all there is to it. Just because you do, doesn't mean I have to. I don't force you to like the same things as me. I'll stay here tonight and if we have to coming home but don't ask me to look forward to it or enjoy it."

Al shrugged. "Ok, but I think you're making this more difficult on yourself than necessary." They were pulling up to the resort with marble columns and landscaping that was designed to give the feel of an ancient Roman resort. "If nothing else, get a massage or take a sauna. You might as well relax as best you can while we're here."

"I'll think about it but I might just order room service and read instead." The car stopped and Sam opened the door and stepped out. Feeling the hot air, he amended his plans. "Maybe I'll go down to the pool and do some laps. I haven't had a chance to go swimming in a while.," He was trying to put a positive spin on their stay in the city realizing that right now he was starting to sound awfully negative.

The two men went into the hotel. Their check-in process was much easier this time than it had been the last time they'd come to Las Vegas together. They went up to their adjoining rooms. After dropping off his bag, Al went back down to the casino. Sam took enough time to change into his swimming trunks before going down to the pool. They had agreed to meet at around six at their rooms and then go down to one of the restaurants for dinner.

Sam spent a couple of hours at the pool swimming laps or just lying on one of the lounge chairs soaking up some sun before he took advantage of the fitness center in the hotel. Finished with his workout, he went back to his room to take a shower and dress for dinner. He was just getting out of the shower when he heard Al coming back to the room next door.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Al had had a great time in the casino. He'd won some, lost some, and at this point was about $100 towards the good. He loved being in Vegas. The sounds, the lights, the gorgeous women. It was with a smile that he entered his room to get ready for dinner. At six on the dot, he knocked on the door that adjoined his and Sam's room.

When Sam pulled the door open, he was just finishing doing up the buttons on his shirt. "Hey, just give me a second and I'll be ready." He went back over to the bed and sat on the edge while he put his sneakers back on. "Hope we're not going any place too fancy. I didn't really pack for that."

"No problem, Kid. I heard about a nice restaurant, not too pricey or fancy, but with good food. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds great to me. Is it in the hotel or somewhere else on the strip?"

"It's down the strip a bit. Not too far. Easy walk." He noticed Sam had gotten some sun. "You know, Kid, a little sunscreen wouldn't hurt," he cautioned before asking, "How was the swimming?"

"It was great," Sam answered with an easy smile. He ignored the caution about using sunscreen. "You know, I just might see about putting a pool in at my place. It's a great way to relax and I've got the land for it."

"Yeah, like you're ever there long enough to enjoy it," Al snorted. "Why don't you just come over to my apartment? The pool there is great."

"I'm at my place almost every weekend," Sam pointed out. "And, it would be private. The one at your apartment isn't."

"Yeah, but there are advantages to that as well," Al pointed out before pausing. "Verbena and I have gotten to know each other this summer better and that's been mostly by the pool."

"I'm not looking for a pool to get to know anyone. I just want to be able to swim, that's all." Sam pulled open the door to his room and gestured for Al to go out before him. "It's a good, low-impact workout."

Al followed Sam's lead and left the room. "I know that, Kid." He counseled. "But it wouldn't hurt for you to socialize a little more. You're locked up in your lab or your office if you're not involved in the construction of the project and when you're home, you're home."

"Aw, Al, let's not start with that again," Sam said with a sigh. It seemed Al was always harping on him about socializing more and spending more time with women. "I'm happy with the way things are going and I get enough socialization. I just want to have a pool I can use when I want to work out. That's all." They reached the elevators and he turned to face Al. "I can get away from things when I'm home. I'd think you'd want me to be able to relax when I'm there."

"I do, Kid." Al sighed. "Ok. Get the pool. Maybe you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Sam responded with a twinkle in his eye. He was feeling quite relaxed after his afternoon of swimming - more relaxed than he'd felt in a couple of months. The elevator came and they were soon at the hotel lobby. "Lead on."

As Al said, the restaurant was not far from the hotel. Even though it was later, it felt like a blast furnace outside and both men were happy to make their way into the cool of the establishment. The decor was retro diner.

After a nice dinner, they went back to the hotel. Although Al was planning on leaving by 7:00 am in the morning to be in Idaho before noon, he decided he still had some time to go back down to the casino before getting to bed early.

When he returned to his room two hours later, he noticed the light in Sam's room was still on and heard the TV as well. Poking his head in the door adjoining the two rooms, he intended to say goodnight to his friend but noticed, instead, that Sam was sleeping in bed partially sitting up.

Creeping quietly into the room, he approached the bed. There was an open crossword puzzle book on Sam's chest and he loosely gripped a pen in his hand. Slipping the pen from Sam's lax grip, Al put it and the puzzle book on the bedside table. He maneuvered Sam's relaxed body so that he was prone in the bed with the pillows under his head and pulled the blankets up over him.

He stood looking down at his friend for just a few moments. His features were peaceful and he noticed, not for the first time, how much younger Sam looked when he slept.

It was with sadness he realized that in the last three months since getting back from Los Angeles, this was one of the few times Sam didn't flinch or shy away when he touched him – and that was because he was unaware in sleep.

Sighing, he turned off the TV and the light. If things went well on this trip, they'd be able to heal whatever rift had opened up between them and get back to where they always were.

Quietly, Al moved away from the bed. When he reached the doorway between the two rooms, he looked back at his slumbering friend. "Sweet dreams, Sammy," he whispered, before entering his room. As he emptied his pockets, he realized he'd have to pick up an extra roll of Rolaids, the current one almost empty. He smiled as he realized that today, he'd hardly needed any. He pegged the reason as things getting back to normal with Sam again. With a smile on his face, he finished getting ready for bed. It had been a good day.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The weather for flying was perfect. Blue skies as far as the eye could see. Sam and Al had gotten up at 6 a.m. and ate breakfast about 7 a.m.. Sam's breakfast had been light. He said he didn't want to tempt fate.

They made it to the airport before 8 a.m. It was a little later than Al had planned but it wouldn't put them off schedule by that much. They'd taken off in record time and were now soaring over Nevada on the way to Idaho.

"So what's it gonna be like." As he asked the question, Sam tried to casually look out the window but as soon as he saw how high up he was, he felt a crawly feeling up his spine like he was going to fall spiraling to the earth and quickly clamped his eyes closed.

"What's what gonna be like?" Al asked.

"The trip," Sam clarified. "Do we just stay at the same site all week or do we hike to a new spot every day?"

"We'll be hiking to different spots. Generally one day hiking and then the next day fishing."

"So, we won't actually do any fishing until tomorrow then? When we get there today we'll hike?" Sam kept up his line of questioning. As long as he diverted his attention with it, he was able to almost forget where he was. He knew he'd never be able to completely forget it.

"Well, that's the plan. Course, the guide will have a packhorse so like I told you, we won't be having freeze dried food during the trip."

"Aw gee," Sam said sarcastically, "I can't tell you how disappointed I was to hear that. What else could one look forward to than eating freeze-dried food day after day...after day." Turning a little more serious he mused, "I'm gonna guess we're still not going to be having hotdogs and burgers, though."

"We might. Well, maybe not hotdogs. These outfitters can make some pretty damned good food, Sam."

"So, they do the cooking? We don't have to cook?" This trout fishing trip was starting to look better and better. Now, as long as they could get through the whole week without anything going wrong, it would be a perfect trip. As that thought went through Sam's mind, the small plane shook as it hit a pocket of turbulence. "What was that," he asked fearfully.

"Nothing, Sam," Al said. He saw the look of fear on his friend's face. "Really, Kid. Turbulence happens. Doesn't mean a thing." He waited for Sam to calm down a bit before answering his earlier question. "We hike, we fish. They do the rest. I hope you brought your camera too."

"Yeah, I have my camera," Sam answered uneasily. "You're sure it's nothing, right? It's not like last time?"

"It's not like the last time. That I can guarantee you." Al had checked the plane himself before taking off both times. There was absolutely nothing that could conceivably happen like the previous trip. He still didn't understand what had happened on that flight but he wasn't taking any chances this time.

"How much longer?" Even with Al's reassurance that nothing amiss was happening, Sam was anxious to be on the ground once more. He felt that he would have been fine for the flight if there hadn't been that pocket of turbulence. It brought too many memories that he'd much rather forget to the forefront of his mind.

"About an hour and a half, Sam." Al sighed. "You can relax. I mean it. Everything's going to be ok this time."

"I'll relax when we're on the ground. I'm sorry this isn't easier." Sam closed his eyes and began to do the breathing exercises he'd used the day before. It was just 90 minutes and he'd be on the ground.

Al figured the kid was doing the best he could. "Hey, maybe you should take some more of that Dramamine. It put you out like a light yesterday."

"No," Sam said with a small shake of his head. "I'll still be too drowsy by the time we land." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll just have to tough it out."

"Ok, but if you just relax, everything will be fine."

"I've relaxed about as much as I'm going to."

Al sighed and kept flying. He figured the best way he could help was to keep them on course. If things went perfectly, they might even get there a little early.

The flight completed without incident. Again, Sam seemed to tense up on landing but once they were on the ground, Al noted it was as if the tension poured out of him. "We're done with flying for a week, Sam. Now we get to head into the outdoors on terra firma."

"I'm looking forward to that," Sam said peering out of the plane. "So, how do we get to wherever we're going now?"

"Rick Nichols will be picking us up at 1:30. That will give us time to unpack what we need and get the plane stowed away."

"Ok, then, let's start getting unpacked." Sam's stomach picked that moment to gurgle reminding him he hadn't eaten much for breakfast. "You think we have time to get something to eat, too?"

"We should be able to pick something up. In the meantime, why don't you grab one of those granola bars?"

"Oh yum…granola," Sam said unenthusiastically. "Sorry," he continued with a small smile when he realized how he sounded. "I guess I'm getting kind of cranky."

"It's ok. I know how you get when you're hungry and granola isn't likely your favorite treat right now. Until we can get unpacked and somewhere to eat, it'll at least stop those rumblings."

Sam's stomach rumbled again, louder this time. "I guess that might be a good idea. Where'd you put them?"

"They're in the blue stuff sack in the top of my pack."

Locating the stuff sack, Sam opened it and pulled out one of the granola bars that was on the top. Before putting it back, he moved around the rest of the contents to see what else was in it. When he did he, spied a chocolate bar deeper in the sack.. He quickly traded the granola bar for it. "Trying to keep the good stuff for yourself?" he accused teasingly.

"Hey, that chocolate was for your first catch. You spoiled the surprise, Kid."

"Let's just say finding it was my first catch." Sam ripped open the wrapper on the bar and took a large bite from the chocolate. Knowing how much his friend also favored the sweet treat, he held the bar in Al's direction. "You want some," he offered around a mouthful.

"Nah. If you're that hungry, you probably need it all."

"You said we were going to get some lunch so I don't need it all. C'mon, take some. I know you want to," Sam cajoled as he pushed the chocolate bar closer to Al.

Al shrugged and gave in. "Ok. A break for chocolate is always a good idea." He took part of the chocolate bar and happily munched on it.

Sam watched Al happily eating the chocolate and broke off another piece for himself. "Since we're camping, I guess that means a campfire at night, huh?" He broke off another piece and popped it in his mouth as Al nodded. "Think the guide'll have the stuff to make S'mores?"

"Well, if he doesn't, I do," Al said with a smile. "I know you like them."

"This **is** going to be a good trip," Sam said as he finished the chocolate bar. "I guess we should start unpacking now."

Within fifteen minutes, they'd taken the things they needed from the plane. Al made sure the plane was taken care of. He'd paid to have it stored in a hangar while they were in the wilderness. Once that was finished, the two waited until their guide picked them up. Al took the lull to pull out a cigar. Since they were outside, he hoped Sam would be ok with it. He should have known.

"Aw, c'mon," the younger man complained when he saw Al with the cigar. "Do you have to smoke that thing? They call it fresh air for a reason, you know." He generally tried not to say anything despite the fact that he didn't like Al's cigar smoking habit but there were times he couldn't keep quiet about it. Each time he saw him light up another cigar, he wondered how much time it was taking off his life.

"Are you going to start ragging on me? I just figured this was a good way to start a relaxing weekend. I'm not going to be able to smoke one once we're picked up and I never smoke while I'm hiking. By my estimate, it will be awhile until I get a chance to have another one."

"I'm not ragging on you." Sam wandered a short distance off looking up to the sky. "I just worry about you and what those things are doing to you." He looked over his shoulder at Al. "Life's short enough. Why do something to make it shorter?"

"I enjoy them. It's not like I'm constantly smoking them. It's not like cigarettes."

Shaking his head slightly, Sam chose not to prolong what he knew would only turn into an argument. Al had been smoking cigars too long to give them up now. He was right when he said he didn't smoke them constantly. Sometimes, all he did was hold on to one without even lighting it. Still, if he never lit another one, that would only make Sam happy. "When's this guy supposed to pick us up?" he asked instead.

"He should be here any minute."

Nodding shortly, Sam turned away from Al again moving a few steps away from him. He caught his lower lip between his teeth trying to decide if he should ask the question he'd been wondering about all morning. Taking a deep breath, he decided to go ahead and ask it. "Why were you in my room last night?"

Al tilted his head. "You were awake? I thought you were asleep."

"If I wasn't awake, I was dreaming about you tucking me in." Sam tried a laugh to ease the moment. "No offence but, you're not the type I tend to dream about when it comes to that."

Al raised his eyebrows. "Is there someone you do dream about doing that that you've never told me about?"

"No," Sam quickly denied, "And don't try changing the subject. Why were you in my room last night?"

Al shrugged. "I got in from my trip downstairs and noticed your light was on. I figured you might be reading or something and I decided to come say goodnight. You were sitting up in bed lying back against the pillows but you looked like you'd fallen asleep in that position. I figured you'd be more comfortable lying down, so I moved you to that position."

"That was all?" Sam had a feeling Al had done more than just that. It was the feeling of being moved that had woken him up enough to know what was going on but not enough to actually be awake. It was more like twilight sleep. Still, even after he was lying more comfortably with the covers pulled up over him, he'd had the sensation that Al had stayed in the room longer. If he had, and whatever his reason, it was obviously something he wasn't comfortable with sharing. Sam decided it was best not to push on that front. "Well, thanks. I'd have probably ended up with a stiff neck and back."

"No problem." Al sucked in a breath and let it out. Sharing with Sam why he'd lingered in his room might only help them. "Then after I moved you and fixed your pillows and stuff it came to me that I haven't seen you sleeping much since May." He realized what that could sound like. "I mean, after that situation in LA, I haven't really been over to your house much. Not that that seeing you sleep is why I come over, you know." He realized he was just digging a deeper hole. "Anyways, I was glad you got some sleep. Really all I did was turn off the light and go back to my room," he finished quickly.

"It's ok, Al. Really," Sam assured when he saw how his friend had started to babble trying to explain himself. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that." He paused for a second before continuing, "Thanks. Thanks for caring." He left it unspoken that he wasn't just grateful that Al cared that he slept comfortably but just that the man cared for him in general. He'd missed the easy camaraderie between them the last few months and really hoped this trip would take them back to that place and enable him to put the memories from LA behind him once and for all.

Al gave Sam a smile and was about to respond when a Ford explorer pulled up and took his focus away. Once stopped, the driver got out. He put his hand out. "You two must be Al Calavicci and Sam Beckett, right? I'm Rick Nichols, your guide from High Mountain Fishing."

Al took the man's hand. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and based on his tanned skin, obviously spent a lot of time outdoors. "Good to meet you Rick. Yeah. I'm Al and this is Sam."

"Hi," Sam said as he stepped over and shook Rick's hand as well.

Once the introductions were finished, Al started to put their things in the back of the Explorer. When he picked up Sam's bag, he noticed it was a bit heavier than he'd expected based on their discussions about packing. It was the first time he'd actually picked up Sam's bag. Up until now, the kid had made sure he was the one who handled it. "What have you got in here this time, Sam?"

"Just the usual stuff." Sam took his bag from Al and hefted it. It felt a little heavy but it wasn't that bad. "You're not going to start taking my stuff out again, are you?"

"I just want to check, Kid. It's probably fine. Come on, open it up."

"If it's fine, why do you have to check it?" Sam glanced in Rick's direction noticing how he seemed slightly amused as he watched the two of them. "You're treating me like I've never gone camping or anything before." He held tight to the bag not wanting it opened right now. This time, he was not going to leave anything behind.

Al shrugged. "I never said you hadn't been camping but, ok, whatever. It's your back." He really did want to know what the kid had packed but he didn't want to push his friend in front of the guide.

Rick shook his head and said with a disarming smile. "You know, one thing I see a lot is people end up taking more than they need. You know, redundant things? Maybe that's what Al's talking about."

"Nothing's redundant," Sam quickly answered. "I didn't pack anything that we might not need." He looked between the two men and knew they weren't going to be happy until they'd inspected the contents of his bag. He held it out to Al. "Here, go ahead and look if it'll make you happy. You'll see there's nothing extra."

Al took the bag. He was actually impressed with some of the things he pulled out first. Sam had obviously learned the value of polypropylene and other more cutting edge camping gear. However, not far down he found a rather large, heavy stuff sack and pulled it out. "What's this, Sam?"

"First aid kit and it's not getting left behind."

"First aid kit?" Al questioned hefting the bag. "It feels like a friggin' doctor's bag. What have you got in here?"

"Stuff we might need. I want us to be prepared this time." Sam looked defiantly at Al. "It's coming with us."

Rick was intrigued. "Prepared this time? Do you have accidents a lot?"

Sam ignored the question and continued to look at Al daring him to deem the first aid supplies unnecessary.

Al didn't say anything at first. He looked at the stuff sack and wondered if Sam was still feeling vulnerable. He couldn't really blame him. Already this year Sam had had several life threatening situations. "What do you think is going to happen, Sam?" he asked gently. "It's not like we're forging a new trail or something. This isn't like Colorado." He didn't specifically say which trip to Colorado. Both of them had had challenges.

"I know it's not Colorado." Sam tried to maintain a placid exterior but he could feel his face tighten up as soon as Al mentioned Colorado. If they'd had even half of the stuff on either of those trips that he'd put in the first aid kit this time, they'd have done a lot better. "We can't take any chances. We have to be prepared." He tried to keep his voice firm and level but he had a feeling both of the other men probably thought he acting just a little crazy.

Rick looked over to Al. "You have a first aid kit with you?"

Al nodded. "A small one but well stocked."

"I've got one too." He looked at Sam. "Maybe you can take out the things we already have. You know, are we really going to need all ten of my bandages and whatever Al has?"

Al spoke up. "I've got about five."

Rick smiled. "Ok, the fifteen we have. How many do you have in there, Sam?"

"No," Sam answered stubbornly. "Don't you see? That's all I've got...that's what I know." He turned to Al. "I can't come in guns blazing to save someone but I can use that."

"Who are you planning on saving?" Rick asked drawing Sam's attention back to him.

"I...I don't know," Sam answered uncertainly before looking to his friend again. "Al? Don't make me, please?"

Al took a breath. This was really about security. Sam was still running scared and this wasn't the time or the issue to pull him from that mentality. Trying to do that now would most likely only push him deeper into that feeling of vulnerability. Al recognized that Sam needed to be in control or at least have an illusion of control. He put the stuff sack back in Sam's bag. "It's ok, Sam. Bring it with you." He gave Rick a look that said not to push on this.

Sam nodded his thanks but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure why he felt a driving need to bring as many medical supplies as he did. Just somehow, deep in his gut, he knew they couldn't be left behind.

They finished stowing the gear and got into the Explorer. Al and Sam both got into the back seat. Rick got in behind the wheel and started up the vehicle. He was about to state his first rule about wearing seatbelts but both men put them on without being told. "Ok, then. We'll be at the trailhead in about thirty minutes unless you need to stop somewhere."

Remembering Sam had mentioned food, Al asked, "Are there any fast food places around here?"

"I haven't really had a chance to eat all day," Sam added to explain their need to stop.

Rick nodded. "Burgers and such ok?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Sam agreed.

"Ok. John Pickson's opened up a new place. We can go by there." He headed the SUV into town. They went through a local drive through to pick up lunch and drinks. "So what do you guys want?" Rick asked as they stopped in front of the menu sign.

Al noticed the grilled chicken sandwich. "I'll have a #6 with fries and a Coke."

After looking over the choices, Sam decided to get the same thing that Al was getting.

As Rick put in their order along with his own, Sam pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "It's my treat," he said pulling out some money.

"Thanks," Al said. Rick echoed the sentiment. Before long they had their food and were munching on it on the way to the trailhead. By the time they arrived, Al had had his fill. "Pretty good sandwich."

"You want the rest of your fries?" Sam asked when it looked like Al was finished with his meal. His request garnered a strange look from Al. "What? I didn't eat breakfast remember,"

"Sure, Kid, knock yourself out." Al had only eaten about half his fries.

"Thanks." Sam took the remainder of Al's fries and started to stuff them in his mouth hungrily.

"Take it easy, Kid," Al advised with a chuckle. "No one's going to take them away from you."

Rick got out and went to the back to start pulling out their equipment while Sam finished his lunch. He had to laugh quietly at the two men he'd be spending the week with. They seemed almost like family.

Sam swallowed what was in his mouth. "I don't want to hold us up."

"Not a problem Kid. Just eat slower. Otherwise your stomach's gonna revolt and that **will** hold us up. I'm going to go help Rick so just finish." He got out of the Explorer and went around back to help their guide. He wanted to take some time to talk the man and let him know that it wouldn't be a good idea to push Sam too hard on some things. As he moved closer to him, he found that the outfitter was concerned.

Rick nodded towards Sam. "He ok?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. He'll be fine. The last few months have just been a little rough. Nothing serious but I'm hoping this trip brings back some balance for him."

"Anything I should know about?" Rick asked continuing to pull the bags out of the Explorer. "He seemed a little more upset than you'd think over that first aid kit."

"Not really," Al started. Seeing Rick's questioning expression, he added some information. "I mean, he's had a few brushes with some things that could have turned pretty bad and I think he's still feeling vulnerable, you know? Sometimes it's better not to push on things like that."

Rick eyed the man still in the Explorer and then looked back to Al. "Ok. If you think he's up to this, I'll keep that in mind. You know him. I don't."

"Oh, he's definitely up for this. It is his first time fly fishing though, so that might be difficult for him." Al smiled. "But once he catches that first fish, I'm sure he'll be loving this."

"A rookie, huh. Well, we'll just have to make sure he enjoys himself."

As Rick finished speaking, Sam finished his lunch and got out of the Explorer coming back to where the other two men were. As he took the bag Al had in his hand, he leaned close to him dropping his voice so only his friend would hear him. "What are you telling him about me?" Seeing the surprised look Al gave him, he added, "I know that look you had on your face."

"Nothing, Sam. Only that you're going to be fine on the trip." He smiled. "I told him this was your first time fly fishing."

"Great, a perfect stranger and now he thinks there's something wrong with me," Sam mumbled. Louder, he said, "Can we just wipe the slate clean and forget about anything that's happened and then you can both stop worrying about me."

Al rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, Sam. Nobody's worrying about you. Everyone who fly fishes has to have a first trip. This one's yours. No biggie."

Not wanting to start the trip on a sour note, Sam chose to accept what Al said at face value. "So, what, does this mean the two or you are planning some kind of initiation or something like dunking me in a lake?"

"Wasn't planning on it, but sounds like a plan to me," Al said. He turned to the guide. "What do you think, Rick?"

"Yeah. That works for me," Rick said, playing along.

"It's kind of warm. Maybe a dunking wouldn't be such a bad idea," Sam agreed amiably.

The three had a laugh. When they stopped, Rick spoke up. "Ok, if we plan on getting to our first stop in reasonable time, you both need to switch to your hiking boots and then we'll get this show on the road...or rather the trail."

Sam quickly complied with Rick's request to change footwear. "Ok, I'm all set," he said after tying the laces.

Al did the same and then went to get their packs. "Here you go, Sam," he said passing the younger man's pack to him and then putting on his own.

Rick, in the meantime, had retrieved the horse he finished packing while his charges got ready themselves. He moved closer to the group and then put his own pack on.

"How far are we going today?" Sam asked as he buckled the fastenings, making adjustments as necessary. It was already well after noon and even if the days were longer in the summer, he knew that once the sun started to set, it would get dark quickly.

"We're heading to the meadow. It's only a few miles in. It should be an easy hike. It's mostly a gentle slope and a good trail." Rick locked the door of the Explorer and then turned to the men. "Ok, then let's go." He nodded for the Sam and Al to go first as he'd be leading the horse behind him.

Rick's description of the trail was accurate and it proved to be an easy hike. They arrived at the meadow about an hour and a half before sundown. Rick suggested Sam and Al look around while he set up the camp and cooked their dinner letting them know what time they should be back. By Al's reckoning they'd still have some light left while they ate.

Sam dug out his camera from where he'd put it in his pack. "C'mon, let's do a little exploring."

"There's a rise over there," Al pointed out. "Want to start there?"

"Sounds good. Lead on."

As they did their exploring, Sam took a number of photos. Talk tended to be light and sporadic but there was an ease to it that brought to mind the way things were before LA. Al smiled. This trip was already starting out well.

A little before their deadline, they started to head back. The pinks and violets in the sky were striking as the sun continued it's movement towards the horizon. As they got closer, Al sniffed the air. "Smell's good."

Sam also sniffed the air appreciatively. "Sure does. Wonder what it is." Just before they entered the campsite, he grabbed Al's arm stopping him. "It's gonna be good, Al," he stated forcefully. He didn't elaborate on what he meant trusting that Al would know it wasn't dinner he was talking about.

Al clapped Sam lightly on the shoulder. There was no mistaking what his friend meant. "I know that, Kid."

After dinner, Al asked about clean up. Rick laughed. "Well, you can help if you want but the contract says I do it all. Up to you."

"We'll do it," Sam quickly jumped in to say. "It's what Al and I always do. Whoever doesn't do the cooking, does the clean up."

"Ok. Go for it," Rick said getting up and shaking his head. "I've got to get a few things ready for tomorrow anyways. We'll be breaking camp by 7 am but I promise you, the six hour hike will be worth it. We'll be at our first fishing spot by one tomorrow."

"Hope you don't mind that I volunteered you," Sam said as he collected their dirty dishes. "I can do it if you don't want to."

Al shook his head. "No. This is good, Kid. Haven't done this in awhile." Like Sam earlier, he wasn't talking about washing dishes. Although the last four days had been somewhat closer to normal, there had still been something missing. At least for now, it was back and Al felt the stress he'd been carrying lessen.

It didn't take long until the two men had everything cleaned up from dinner. "It's really pretty out here," Sam said looking around the meadow they were camped in.

Al nodded. The sun was ready to fall behind the mountains. He looked up. "Look, there's Venus."

Sam followed the pointing finger with his eyes. "Yeah. My Dad taught me the constellations," he said softly before looking at Al. "I've probably told you that before."

Al nodded and grinned at his friend. "Yeah. Like I've said before, your Dad sounds like he was a great guy. I wish I could have met him."

"Me too," Sam agreed softly. There was a silence between the two men that he eventually broke. "So, where's the stuff to make the s'mores?"

"You know, you really are a kid sometimes," Al commented, smiling at his friend's desire for the sticky treats. "Give me a minute, I'll get the stuff." He figured that they could use the supplies he'd brought tonight. He hoped that Rick brought more ingredients but if not, at least Sam would get one night of them.

The three men spent the rest of the night sitting around the campfire talking and indulging in s'mores. Sam acted like the kid Al had accused of him of being, burning his mouth by biting into one of the treats before it had cooled off sufficiently. It didn't dampen his enthusiasm for them, though. Since they'd be having an early morning, they retired for the night early.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was early in the morning and Sam was awake. If he had to guess, it was probably only about 3:00 a.m. The only sounds were the soft susurration of Al's breathing and the crickets chirping outside.

After initially getting into his sleeping bag, he'd fallen asleep almost right away. The hike to the meadow and the fresh air had left him tired. His sleep hadn't lasted long, though.

For what he estimated to be the last 45 minutes, he'd been awake and staring at the roof of the tent. He worked hard to quell his urge to toss and turn knowing that that would only lead to disturbing Al's sleep. Knowing that he couldn't remain still any longer, he quietly slipped out of his sleeping bag. Grabbing his windbreaker, he crept out of the tent as silently as possible. He went over to the fallen log they'd sat on to eat dinner and sat on the ground in front of it using it to brace his back.

He looked up at the star-dotted sky as a myriad of thoughts swirled around in his head. He was so intent on his thoughts; he didn't hear when Al came out of the tent as well.

"You ok, Sam?" Al asked cautiously. He'd wanted this trip to be a good one for his friend and was worried that something had raised its ugly head like a cold or something worse. Sam's track record with illnesses hadn't been the best.

"Al?" Sam questioned startled when he heard his friend's voice. "I didn't hear you come out."

Al noted Sam didn't sound stuffy so it was unlikely it was his ears that hadn't picked up his approach. That led to the other thing that tended to disturb Sam's sleep. "You worried about something?"

"No, not worried," Sam said after a moment's pause. "Just thinking, I guess."

Al moved to sit down beside Sam. His friend didn't indicate he shouldn't so he sat. "What about?"

"About LA and what happened when we were there."

The way Sam said it, Al realized his head was a few months in the past. "You mean what I did. Shooting Maddux." He took a deep breath and let it out. He once again gave his reasoning. "I had to, Sam. He was about to slit your throat. That guy had killed before and the only way to save you was to shoot him."

"I know that, Al. I've made peace with that part of it." Sam got up from the log and started pacing in front of it. "What has me thinking is.." He paused, bothered by the thoughts he was now voicing. "..I don't know if I could do the same thing. I've been playing it over and over in my mind trying to put myself in your place and I don't know if I could do the same thing." He stopped his pacing and turned to face Al. "Even if it meant saving your life, I just don't know that I could do that." He barked out a short, derisive laugh. "Some friend I am. First I treat you like you had the plague 'cause you saved my life and now I don't even know if I could do the same thing for you."

Al swallowed tightly. He'd hated having to kill someone again. As much as he knew he didn't have a choice in the matter, it was never something he wanted to do. He'd truly believed that having the gun handy was just an unnecessary precaution. Something he'd never use but that would provide the feeling that he wasn't helpless. Taking another human's life, even if they were the scum of the Earth, had caused the nightmares to return. Still he'd suffer through them gladly knowing that Sam wouldn't be here now if he hadn't used the weapon.

Al knew that Sam hadn't had the same training he'd had. As a fighter pilot, he'd had to learn how to defend himself in the theatre of war. He'd only had to use that particular skill a few times and he knew every time he had, there hadn't been a better choice but it didn't make taking someone's life any easier. In contrast, the only living thing the Kid had killed was when he went pheasant hunting with his brother on the farm. He'd learned that when they'd talked about hunting once. Sam had told him he hadn't even done that since the last time he'd seen his brother the Thanksgiving holiday before Tom had shipped out to Vietnam. He told Al he'd tried once but it just brought back the memories of his brother so strong, he'd turned away and never tried again.

"It's not something that I'd wish for you, Sam," the older man said quietly. "I know how you feel about taking a life."

"That shouldn't make a difference," Sam countered. "You can't tell me you enjoyed pulling that trigger. You still did it, though. You saved my life." He paused for just a moment before asking in a barely heard voice, "how can you trust me if I can't look at you and say I'd do the same thing if I had to to save your life"

"Nobody really knows how they'll react until it happens, Kid. I've seen gung-ho soldiers just out of basic freeze up and others that never thought they could actually shoot in real combat, do what they had to. You really don't know how you'll handle it until it happens." He turned to Sam and looked directly into his eyes, his hand going to Sam's shoulder. "But I promise you this. I'll do anything..." He repeated the word with more emphasis, "... **anything** to keep you from having to learn whether you would or could. I don't ever want you to have to do that, Kid. You hear me." He shook Sam just slightly to reinforce his point.

"I just…I just don't want to fail you, Al" Sam looked down but didn't pull away from his friends hold. "Not after all you've done for me."

Al didn't say anything for a moment but finally birthed the pregnant silence. "Sam, you could never fail me. Our friendship isn't based on whether you could kill someone to save me. Hopefully, you'll never face that potentiality."

"I guess," Sam agreed uneasily. "I just…I just wish none of it had ever happened. I wish you didn't have to kill someone for me."

Al let out a breath. "You and me both, Kid."

"So what now? How do we put this behind us?" Sam moved back to sit on the fallen log. "How do I get to a point where I don't look at you and remember that you killed someone because of me? Where I don't feel his blood on my face?" Sitting in the dark of night, he felt it granted him a veil he could hide behind and finally give voice to the thoughts he'd been having the last several months. "I remember you pulling that trigger and I feel like it's my fault – that if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have done that. I know it's nuts. I'd be dead otherwise but…" he trailed off not knowing how to adequately voice his feelings.

Al moved to sit by Sam once more, resting his hand on his friend's back. It was dark and the younger man's face was in shadow but as he leaned in, he could make out his eyes. "Sam, it was my choice. You weren't at fault." When that didn't seem to have an effect he continued. "What? You chose to have the bastard attack you to begin with? You chose to have him stalk you and eventually try to kill you? You just had the misfortune to run into a really sick individual. It wasn't your fault. But I will say this; no way in hell was he going to succeed in killing my best friend."

"But what makes my life worth more than his?" Sam asked slowly. "What gives me the right to live and not him? I could have walked away from it all," he stressed. "That's what you wanted me to do. Hell, you almost begged me to walk away. If I had, it wouldn't have happened. That was my choice."

"No," Al said in response before clarifying his answer. "Even if you'd walked away, he would have tried to kill you, Sam. I understand that now and I didn't then. You saw him. You were a threat to him and that was all it took. Hell, he killed the girl and she couldn't have even ID'd him." Al got quiet but then continued, speaking softly. "He was the one that choose for make his life worth so much less. His path was destruction. Yours is..." He paused with the importance of the completion of the thought, "...is to do something wonderful that the world has never seen before."

The confidence with which Al spoke of him completing the project was so overwhelming and so firm, it almost scared Sam. No one had ever shown as much confidence in his success - not even his family. Of course, his family knew nothing of what he was doing so that made it a little hard for them. Still, even if they had known, they wouldn't have understood it quite the way that Al did. "What if," he began to ask tentatively, "what if you'd been too late? What if he'd killed me? Would you still have fired that gun?" Sam wasn't sure what answer he wanted and as fast as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could call them back.

"You mean vengeance?"

"Maybe," Sam agreed. "But not later…not like you went looking for it. I mean right then at that time." The question was out and it couldn't be taken back. Now all he could do was wait for the answer.

Al stopped to think about the question. He got up and turned away from Sam as he gave the question his full measure. The idea that someone would kill his best friend in cold blood and then pay for it with their life. Al had once been religious and he knew that there were possible arguments for or against what Sam was talking about. An eye for an eye versus thou shalt not kill. Then there was the possibility of eternal damnation, or at least the nuns had wanted him to consider that. Finally Al turned back to Sam and stated firmly, "If someone killed you like that, like you weren't worth more than target practice, then yeah. I'd pull the trigger."

The answer, when it came, stunned Sam and he jumped up from the log. He stood looking at his friend, his eyes wide in shock and a little horror. "No," he finally gasped out. "I don't want you to. You can't...It wouldn't bring me back. Don't say that." Now, even more, he wished he could call back the question. Then he wouldn't have had to hear the answer.

Al blinked as Sam reacted to his statement before saying "I'm sorry, Sam. I just couldn't bear the thought that if someone took your life as being worth nothing, then they would get away with that."

"Tell me you wouldn't do that," Sam demanded. "Promise me you wouldn't do that and I'll believe you." And he knew he would believe Al if he made that promise to him. So deep was the trust between them, he knew as long as his promise was given, he'd believe anything Al told him.

Al bit at his lip. "You'd really want to let scum like that live if they've taken your life?" It was a rhetorical question. He knew that Sam truly did mean exactly what he'd said. He let out a breath. "Ok. If that's what you want, Kid, then I'll promise you. If someone ever does that to you..." He started to choke at the idea, but found a way to continue, "...I'll grant them mercy for your sake."

"For your sake, too." Having received Al's promise, Sam felt more at peace with what had happened than he had been. He knew that an outsider would probably say Al had just spoken the words that he'd needed him to and that, in the end, they probably wouldn't mean much but he knew different. He knew his friend's promise was something he'd live by.

"You know, Kid? You're really something." Al said it in a way that spoke volumes to how awed he was with Sam's request for mercy in the abstract.

The emotion of the moment was still strong and Sam smiled at Al to let him know that whatever more could be said didn't need to be. "I guess we should get back to sleep.

"Yeah." Al said. He nodded toward the tent. "You first."

Sam nodded then went into the tent. He pulled off his hiking boots then the windbreaker he'd put on while outside. As he climbed back in his sleeping bag and lay down, he realized that since May there was something he hadn't said. "I never said thank you for saving my life. I got so caught up in everything else, I just never said it but I am grateful even if means...well...what happened."

Al had also gotten into his own sleeping bag. "I couldn't let him kill you Sam. That's the bottom line. I'm glad that I was there and was able to keep him from silencing you permanently and that's all that matters from my perspective. And you're welcome," he said acknowledging Sam's sentiment.

Sam smiled lightly at Al words before a yawn took his face. Stretching out slightly before lying down he told his friend, "Well, we better get some sleep or it's going to be time to wake up."

"Yeah. You're right. And we need our sleep. We've got a good hike in front of us when we get up." Al closed his eyes. Night, Sam."

"Night."

It wasn't long before Sam was soon asleep and Al was the one awake and staring at the tent ceiling. In his case, it wasn't his thoughts that kept him awake but the rumbling snores coming from the man who shared the space with him. Reaching over, he nudged Sam's shoulder and told him to roll over, which he obediently did. There was quiet in the tent for a few minutes before the snoring started up again. Al blew out a breath resigned to the fact that he'd be hearing Sam through the night but happy that his friend had found sleep.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was a half hour after dawn and the sun had risen enough to light the meadow where the men were camped, but hadn't been out long enough to warm anything up. Al zipped up his jacket and emerged from the tent. He was happy to see that Rick had already started the coffee. "Good morning," he greeted. He nodded to the brewed beverage. "That smells really good."

Rick smiled. "I've been told by several of my clients that I have a great knack for making coffee. Come on over and get yourself a cup."

Al didn't have to be asked twice. He quickly obtained the promised elixir and was soon drinking it, both to wake and warm up.

"So, Sam planning on getting up?"

Al looked over to the tent his friend was still sleeping in. "I'm surprised he wasn't up before you." He took another sip of the coffee relishing the flavor. "Maybe it's a good thing. He might have tired making the coffee."

"The way you say that, I take it that's not a good idea." As Al agreed, Rick added, "Not a late sleeper then."

Al shook his head. "Nope. He grew up on a dairy farm. Those habits of getting up with the rooster are still with him."

"Well...we still have a bit before we'll need to wake him if we're going to make it to our next stop in reasonable time."

Al nodded and drank his coffee. "So, the fishing been good this year?"

"Yeah. They've been biting for sure."

In the tent, Sam heard voices outside. The smell of coffee was drifting in as well. He was usually an early riser and it was surprising to him that he was the last one up. He got out of his sleeping bag, grabbed his windbreaker, and left the tent to join the other two men.

"Great. I have a few fly..." Al started as Sam had made his appearance. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Morning." Sam walked over to join the other two men, accepting the cup of coffee Rick held out to him. "Thanks." He held the mug near his face breathing in the fragrance of the coffee before taking a long swallow from it. "That's really good," he said as he sat on the fallen log next to Al.

"Thanks," their guide answered. Now that he had the two men up he asked them, "Sausage and eggs sound good to you? I can do those or I can make something lighter."

"Anything's fine," Sam answered before adding on, "as long as it's not freeze-dried."

"No. I guarantee you won't have any of that t on this trip. That's why we have Farkel along." He nodded to the horse.

"Farkel? That's an interesting name for a horse." Sam got up from the log and went over to where Farkel was tethered. Careful not to startle the animal, he gently started to stroke his neck. The horse nickered slightly and nudged him gently on the shoulder with his nose. "I can't remember the last time I was around horse."

"Farkel was the name he had when I got him. The man who sold him too me told me his kid named him. I didn't see any reason to change it."

Al smiled. "Seems to have taken a liking to you, Sam."

Rick got up and offered Sam a small carrot. "You want to give him a treat?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam accepted the carrot and held it out to Farkel with his hand flat. He smiled when the horse took the carrot and munched on it. "You're a good boy, aren't you," he said as he again started to rub the horse's neck.

The horse finished his carrot and leaned into Sam. He seemed to enjoy the attention from the former farm boy.

When the horse leaned into him, Sam put his arms around the animal's neck and buried his hands in his mane. Being as close as he was brought back memories of growing up on the farm. The horse nickered softly and seemed to look for another treat. "Sorry, that's all I got, Fella," Sam told him as he stepped back. He gave one more pat to the strong neck.

Rick watched as Sam interacted with the horse and smiled. He'd started pulling out the items to cook and continued to fix the breakfast. A short time later they were enjoying their morning meal. "I'd like to break camp in forty-five minutes if that works for you two."

"That should work for us," Al responded. "About how long of a hike did you say we have today?"

"Based on how well you did yesterday, I estimate we'll get there in about six hours tops."

"Six hours. So we should get there around one?" Sam asked eyeing the sun's position. Even though there was still a leftover chill in the air from the night before, he had an idea that it was going to be warmer today than it had been the day before. They'd need to finish the hike by then if they wanted to avoid walking during the worst heat of the day.

"Yeah. About then, give or take a half hour."

The group finished up and after cleanup and break down of the camp, they were on their way again.

Just after they started their hike, they noticed a plane that appeared to be in trouble. As their guide did what he could to seek help for the plane's occupants, Al kept the plane in view until it fell behind a ridge. He noted it was about 20 degrees to the west of the direction they were headed. "Hope they're ok. Looked like the pilot was looking for a place to land."

Sam had watched the path of the plane and couldn't help but remember when he and Al had been in a similar circumstance. It had taken days before they'd been rescued and they'd both nearly lost their lives at various points. Well, for Al it was a close call. He, himself, had actually succumbed to that state for a short time. "You sure there's nothing else we can do?" he asked uneasily.

Rick shook his head. "No. This trail is the best to go towards them in any case. Choosing any other route wouldn't be much of a help for them since we don't have the proper equipment to reach them. Don't worry though, I've contacted the sheriff and given them a good description of where the plane went down. They'll be getting a trained search and rescue team right on it."

"I guess we can't do anything else." Sam exchanged a look with Al then took a deep breath. He was trying to put memories of the plane crash aside but it was hard. "You mind if we hold up a few minutes longer?"

"Not at all." He could see that the plane situation was bothering the other man greatly. "I don't think it's going to set us back as far as time is concerned."

Al looked over at Sam, knowing that his friend wouldn't handle the knowledge that a plane was crashing well. "They'll be ok, Sam. Not all forced landings are like the one we had."

"I know," Sam agreed half-heartedly. He sat down on a convenient rock and pulled his pack off. Pulling a bottle of water out of it, he took a long drink. "At least it's not winter," he added once he'd drunk the water.

"No. It's not winter," Al conceded. He also took water out of his pack. After swallowing a deep sip, he added, "And there isn't a storm coming in."

"I just wish there was more we could do." Sam finished with his water, capped the bottle and returned it to his pack. "I guess we should get going again."

Getting up from the rock he'd sat on, Sam went over to the horse. Thinking that no one was watching too closely, he reached into his pocket for the sugar cube he'd put there when they'd eaten breakfast. He pulled it out and offered it to Farkel. The horse happily lapped up the treat then bumped Sam looking for more. "That's all for now. Too much of it's bad for ya," Sam told him rubbing his neck gently.

Rick saw Sam give his horse a treat and smiled. What Al had said earlier about him growing up on a dairy farm was showing. It was obvious that this man enjoyed animals. It boded well for the trip.

The three men hiked steadily with occasional breaks for the next five and a half hours. When they arrived at the high country lake, Rick nodded to the water. "If you guys want, you can start fishing while I get things set up."

Al looked to Sam. "You want to give it a whirl, Kid?"

"You know what you're doing, right?" Sam asked guardedly while eying the lake. "'Cause I have no idea. Dad took us fishing but never this kind."

"Of course I know what I'm doing. I love fly fishing. Have since Chet Masters taught me back in the seventies."

"Well, I guess that means you'll be teaching me." Sam held his hand out inviting Al to precede him to the lake. "Let's go professor."

"Ok. But we'll need our gear. You know, the waders and such? Let's grab our things and then we'll get you over there by that stream," Al responded with a smile, nodding to where a stream was flowing into the lake.

"Why by the stream?"

"Well, often the trout like to be close to the colder water from the stream. That's where we'll likely find them."

"Oh, ok. That makes sense."

After both men retrieved their equipment, Al's broken in through the years and Sam's new set-up that Al had given him for his birthday, they went to the lake. Al spent time teaching Sam the way to place the fly. Sam had commented that the hooks were broken but Al had explained that the barb had been taken off to make it easier to remove the hook once they caught the fish.

"You just need to flick your wrist this way, Sam," Al said as he continued to demonstrate the technique. His friend was having a difficult time picking it up.

"I can't do it," Sam said in frustration. He was used to being able to pick things up right away, not having to be shown repeatedly.

"Sure you can, Kid. It just takes practice. You'll get it and when you do, it's a great thrill," Al encouraged him.

"Ok," Sam let out a frustrated breath. "Show me again." He didn't sound sure when he made the request.

The older man continued to show Sam how to cast the fly. He noticed his friend swatting the actual flies that found their home around the lake. "They're really bothering you, huh?" he stated more than asked.

"They're not bothering you?" Sam swatting another of the annoying insects away. He leaned over scratching the back of his knee. "They're making me itch just flying around me."

You just get used to them, I guess," shrugged Al. He again picked up his own rod. "Watch how I do this, Kid." He expertly cast the fly and then jerked the tension of the line to move the fly. His technique was rewarded as a trout took hold of the hook. He brought in the fish. "Isn't she beautiful?" Al commented as he lifted the fish to show Sam.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam looked back to where their packs were in the campsite. "Darn it, I left my camera in my pack. Hang on. I'm gonna go grab it."

"Ok." Al said. "But before you go, let me show you how we release it back."

"But...I was going to take a picture of you with it. How can I do that if you release it?"

"There'll be other fish," Al explained. "We don't have to take a picture of every one. Besides, I don't want to keep the hook in its mouth too long, even if there isn't a barb."

"But it's the first one..." Sam trailed off realizing what Al was saying. The fish was a living creature and making it wait for him to get the camera wouldn't be very kind. "I guess you're right. If you have to let it go, you shouldn't prolong it."

Al nodded. "Normally, I'd removed the hook in with the fish in the water but you need to see how this is done. He stuck his hands into the water first before handling the fish.

"Why'd you do that?" Sam asked, curious about the ritual.

"If my hands are dry, they'll stick to the trout and the scales would come off." The trout seemed rather stunned by the whole ordeal it had been through. Alshowed Sam how to remove the small hook so that the fish wouldn't be injured and then bent down to put the animal back in the water. He continued to hold the fish, even moving somewater by its gills. After a few moments reacclimating itself to the lake, the fish moved off towards the deeper water. "Now, go get your camera. You can take a picture of the next one."

Sam had watched the action in amazement. "You really don't want to hurt the fish, do you? Is that why you held onto it until it was ready to move?"

"Exactly. If I let it go before it was ready to breath with it's gills, it would sink to the bottom of the lake and suffocate. Wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"

"No. If we're supposed to be releasing the fish, we don't want that."

Al smiled at Sam. "Like I said, it's the journey, Kid. Man against the fish but when the battle's won, the fish lives for another day. Now, go get that camera."

Nodding, Sam put down his rod before turning and jogging back to the campsite. He pulled his camera out of his pack but kept it in its waterproof case. Coming back over to where Al was waiting, he set the camera down on some rocks back from the water where it would be safe. "Ok, let's try this again," he said as confidently as possible picking up his rod again.

The two continued working at Sam's technique for awhile. Soon, though, Rick called them for lunch which consisted of chicken salad sandwiches and chips.

Taking a small, testing bite of his sandwich, Sam smiled. "I thought it was tuna for a second." He took a larger bite from the sandwich. "This is good chicken salad," he mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Rick looked confused at Sam's comment. "When I sent the information packet to be filled out so I'd know what food to buy, I thought I was told no tuna. Did I get that wrong?" He also acknowledged the compliment. "Thanks. It's my mom's recipe."

"Who told you not to get tuna?" Sam asked before looking at Al suspiciously. "You did, didn't you?" He let out a small sigh. "Al, just because I'm not crazy about tuna doesn't mean the two of you shouldn't be able to have it. You didn't have to do that, really." Despite his words, his tone still conveyed his gratitude.

"It's not a problem, Sam. It's not like a week without tuna will bother anyone." He also let Rick know he was enjoying his sandwich. "Your mother must be a good cook."

Rick smiled. "Yeah. She is. You ought to eat her peach cobbler. Mine's pretty good, but Mom's is fantastic."

Hearing peach cobbler, Sam's head came up quickly. "I love peach cobbler," he said. With a slightly dreamy tone he continued, "My mom makes the best peach cobbler I've ever had. She's won at the state fair."

"Really? You're in for a treat then, cause that's on the menu for tonight." Rick went on. "My mom has won for hers too. Where are you from?"

"Elk Ridge, Indiana," Sam answered after taking another bite. "We'd go to the Tri-County fair. Mom's peach cobbler won eight year's in a row," he said proudly.

"Then we're practically neighbors. I grew up in Kentucky."

Al shook his head and said teasingly, "Two Midwesterners. Will I survive the week?"

Rick rolled his eyes before asking, "Where you from, Al?"

"Grew up in southern California."

"The land of fruits and nuts," Rick teased back.

"Nuts," Sam said with a laugh. "I'd say that part's about right. You're a little nutty, aren't you, Al?"

"Hey," Al exclaimed, "what are you two doing? Tag teaming?" To Sam he replied, "Eccentric, maybe. Nuts? Definitely not. Even Verbena says I've got a good head on my shoulders."

"That's 'cause she's only known you a couple of months," Sam pointed out. He finished his sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his hands. "Now when she's known you as long as I have, she'll agree with me."

"Says you," Al retorted.

"I'm staying out of this one," the guide said. Rick then nodded down to the lake. "How you doing, Sam?"

Rick's question wiped the smile off Sam's face. "Not so good," he answered self-consciously. I can't seem to get it."

Rick gave him a smile. "Just keep at it. It often takes awhile for a newbie to get it right."

"I guess. I'm just not used to it being so hard to pick something up."

"Well," said Rick, "it's an art so it takes practice. Like what it takes to get to Carnegie Hall."

"I guess I know something about that." Sam looked over to Al. "You up to trying to teach me again?"

Rick was obviously confused about the response to his Carnegie Hall quip but shrugged and let it go. When Al asked Rick if he needed help, he told them to go have fun and he'd get everything in order again. Al grinned at Sam, "Yeah. Let's go. You'll get a fish yet."

The next few hours were spent working at catching the elusive fish. Although Sam got better at casting the fly, he still hadn't caught anything after a few hours. Al suggested that maybe they should give it a rest for a while. He didn't want Sam to burn out on the first day. Besides, the day continued to be warm and the live flies and gnats were still bothering the kid. As Sam's frustration grew, Al hoped that this trip wouldn't turn into another bust from the younger man's point of view.

"No," Sam said stubbornly. "I'm not going to give up. Show me again."

Al again patiently showed Sam what he needed to do. This time Sam was rewarded as he felt a fish take hold when he cast the line. "I got one," he cried out excitedly.

Al grabbed Sam's camera and started taking pictures of the man bringing the fish in. He gave a running commentary to help the kid do just that. "You got a nice one, Sam," he said between shots.

"I did it," Sam said with a beaming smile once he'd brought the fish in. "I really did it."

"You did," Al agreed, thrilled to see his friend so happy. "How's it feel, Kid?"

"It's just a trout," Sam said in some wonder, "but I feel like I just won that Nobel again."

"Yeah. It's an incredible feeling."

Rick had heard the shouting and ran down to the lake's edge. He took in the scene and smiled. "Cool. First day and you get one. Fate must be smiling on you." He turned to Al. "You want for me to take a picture with the two of you? Master teacher and student?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." Al handed the camera to Rick and stood next to Sam with his arm around his shoulders for the picture while Sam held up the trout. Once it had been taken, he made sure Sam followed the correct way to release the fish. Once it swam away, he looked at his friend with an evil glint in his eye. "You know what it means when you catch the first one, don't you?"

Sam looked at Al unsure what he was getting at. "Um…not really."

Al made sure that Rick had put the camera down a way from the lake. "You get 'released' too." With that he pulled Sam into the water.

When Al let him go, Sam came out of the water sputtering. "You really dunked me," he said in surprise. He pushed his water soaked hair back from his eyes. "You really did it," he repeated.

"Yep," Al agreed.

"You don't think I'm going to let you get away with that?" Sam asked menacingly as he advanced on his smiling friend. "You don't think you're going to dunk me in this lake and just walk away."

"Well, yeah, I was thinking that's exactly what I'd..."

"Really?" Sam kept advancing stopping with only about a foot between the two of them. "You didn't think about the consequences of doing that did you? It didn't cross your mind that maybe I could breathe in the water and set myself up for another bout of pneumonia or I could have hit my head on a rock under the water. You didn't think about that, did you?"

Al blinked. He really hadn't thought about that. Sam had given him the idea for this the day before and he'd just gone with it. "No. I can't say I did, Kid." He looked at him concerned. "You breathe in any water?"

"I don't know. Maybe you can tell me." Lightening quick, Sam grabbed hold of Al and dunked him in the lake. "Breathe in any water?" he asked with a laugh when his friend surfaced.

Al's eyes narrowed. "You tricked me."

"Who, me?" Sam asked innocently. "I just figured you were too small to keep so I had to release you."

Rick was watching the two. Although both seemingly indicated they were upset with the other in turn, he could tell it wasn't real. It was like watching two siblings interact.

"Ha ha," Al retorted. He considered how wet they were. "At least it's cooler now."

"Yeah, it was kind of refreshing." Sam extended a hand to Al trusting that he wasn't going to be pulled into the water again. He pulled his friend up when his hand was grasped. "I guess we've probably scared all the fish away now."

"I'd say so," Rick added in. He lent a hand as well to pulling the two men from the lake.

As they neared the tents in the campsite, Sam pulled off his wet t-shirt. When he did, he felt Rick's eyes drawn to scars on his body. "I've had a few accidents," he said quickly then ducked into the tent he and Al were sharing.

"I guess," voiced Rick quietly.

Al had made sure to collect all the equipment and had been putting it away when the interchange happened. He heard Rick's statement. "Guess what?"

"Looks like your friend's been through the wringer."

Al tilted his head. "Why do you say that?"

Rick shrugged. "You don't get scarred like that easily."

Al didn't say anything. If their guide found Sam's scars disturbing, he certainly wasn't going to let him see his own. "Well, he had a car accident and a few other events to deal with."

Rick nodded. "I'm going to get started on peeling the vegetables for dinner. See you in a bit." He turned to go back to their 'kitchen' area.

Al went into the tent before taking off his own shirt. When he came in the tent, Sam was sitting fingering the scar that ran across the left side of his abdomen. He wasn't sure which parts of that scar were from which operation anymore. The nephrectomy and spleenectomy had ended up running together. Even the scar from the knife wound was fairly close to it. "I'm a physicist," he said without looking up.

"Yeah. Among other things," Al agreed. He wasn't sure where Sam was going with that statement.

"Look at me." Sam looked up now. "I look like I'm...I'm...I don't know. You know, I don't like to look in a mirror if I don't have a shirt on. I see these and it reminds me of everything that's happened."

Al continued to get out of his wet clothes and put on some dry ones. "Scars will do that."

"I remember it," Sam said again. "I remember that car hitting me and seeing the windshield crack and knowing that was my head that caused it. Or that knife going into me and thinking that that was it. I was going to die then. I wish I could look in a mirror and not see them and not remember."

"But you didn't die, Sam. You're fine now."

"I know that but...aw...just forget it. I don't know how to explain it."

"Sam, I know how scars can bring back memories and how much better it would be if they'd just not be there but eventually, they lose at least some of their punch."

"I took off my shirt and all he saw were these."

"I doubt that, Kid. Sure, they're eye catching. Someone that doesn't know you might see those first." He breathed out. "You don't think it would have been the same if I'd taken off my shirt out there? I didn't. You don't see the scars anymore...just like I don't see yours."

At the reminder of the scars that Al carried, Sam sucked in a quick breath. "Oh, I forgot. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be complaining about this."

"You're still healing." At the look Sam gave him, he clarified. "Not physically. Emotionally."

"Yeah, I guess. I just...you know what I really wish?"

"What, Sam?"

"I wish they didn't act as some kind of barometer. Every time it's gonna rain, my shoulder and my leg get sore." He noticed some surprise on Al's face at his answer. No doubt his friend thought he was going to come out with a deeper wish.

"Well, next time they start hurting, let me know. I can be sure to put the top up on the convertible" Al said, trying to lighten the mood.

A chuckle escaped Sam at Al's words and it soon broke into a full-fledged laugh. Taking his wet t-shirt, he balled it up and threw it at his friend's head. "Idiot," he affectionately called him.

Al ducked and laughed as well. "Well, would you want to sit in a wet seat? Think of what it would do to the interior."

Al's comment stopped Sam's laughter for a few seconds before it started again. Again, he called his friend an idiot but this time he had nothing to throw at him.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

After getting dressed, Sam and Al emerged from the tent. Still energized, they decided on short hike before dinner. Back in time for dinner, they again enjoyed Rick's cooking – chilli – that night. Afterwards, he pulled the Dutch oven he'd had in the coals out. "Peach cobbler, Sam. Hope you like it."

Groaning, Sam accepted the dish of peach cobbler he was handed. "You really expect me to eat this after all of that? The real goal of this trip is to gain about 20 pounds isn't it?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"Well, we've had a few people do that. Course, we weren't hiking as much on that trip." Rick handed a bowl to Al as well before scooping some out for himself.

"We're not hiking tomorrow though, right?" Al asked accepting the dessert.

"No. We'll stay here another day."

Sam enjoyed the peach cobbler. Although not as good as his mother's, it was a close second. When all three were done with desert, he again offered to do the clean up with Al's assistance. "I had a lot of fun today," he told his friend as they finished drying the dishes. "I'm glad you talked me into this."

Al grinned. "Yeah. I told you. We just had a fluke on those other trips."

"No," Sam corrected. "A fluke is an exception to the rule. Since they all had something go wrong and this one hasn't, I'd have to say this one's the fluke." Recalling a conversation that they'd had a few months back, he added, "I guess this time 'round we're getting a slow ball."

Rick was walking back from taking care of Farkel. He heard the passing statement. "You two talking about baseball?"

Al looked up from drying one of the plates. "Not exactly."

"Oh," Rick said confused.

"Long story," Al said.

"A really long story," Sam agreed. "And it's only good if you've got insomnia." He wanted to head off any questions asking for an explanation.

The guide shrugged. "Ok," he answered and went over to his tent to retrieve his guitar. Bringing it out, he went to the campfire and started playing some tunes.

Done cleaning up, Sam joined Rick by the campfire. "That was nice," he said when Rick finished a song.

"Thanks," the guide said. "I enjoy playing. It's great entertainment in the outdoors."

Al came over to join the other two men. "Yeah. It's great to hear. You know, Sam plays guitar too."

"Really?" He looked over to Sam. "Would you like to play something?"

"Uh...yeah, sure." Sam accepted the guitar when it was handed to him. While he thought of what to play, he started to strum the guitar. Eventually, he settled on a song and started to play it. After the first few chords of the song, Sam joined his voice to it.

Rick closed his eyes and smiled. "Nice," he said quietly, not saying anything else as he listened to Sam sing. Al too was enjoying hearing his friend. It was the first time in a while.

Finished with the song, Sam paused for no more than a couple of seconds before starting in on another song – "Bridge Over Trouble Waters". This time when he was done he handed the guitar back to Rick. Turning to Al, he said, "You've been a bridge for me a few times."

"I can say the same thing, Kid," Al answered quietly.

The three men spent the rest of the evening playing songs. Rick and Sam sang a bit. Al begged off saying that it wouldn't be kind to anyone's ears to hear him singing although it would probably keep any wild animals away. Sam had to agree and Rick accepted the statement saying if he thought that was a possibility, he accept the singing.

After a few hours of camaraderie, Rick suggested they turn in. Even though they didn't have any hiking to do, he knew from experience that fly fishermen often got up at the break of dawn so they all turned in early.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The sun hadn't been up long when Sam woke up the next morning. Grabbing his windbreaker, he left the tent as quietly as possible since Al was still sleeping. When he emerged, he saw that he Rick wasn't up either. He breathed deeply of the early morning air. Despite the fact that it was August, there was still a little bit of a chill in the air at night and it was still clinging this morning. Gratefully, he pulled on his windbreaker.

He walked down to the lake admiring the view for a few minutes. Fog still hung over the water lending an eerie, mysterious air to it. As he stood there, he heard a soft nickering behind him. Farkel was also awake and was looking for some company.

Moving over to where the horse was tethered, Sam stroked up and down the strong neck. "Good morning, Fella," he crooned softly to the animal. "How'd you like a treat?" Going into the pack he knew the produce was stored in, he pulled out a carrot and offered it to Farkel on the flat of his hand.

When the horse had finished munching on his early morning treat, Sam untied him to bring him over to the lake and water him. Farkel gratefully bent his head to the water drinking deeply. Sam stayed by the horse patting his back occasionally when he heard a rustling in the bushes. Farkel, also hearing it, raised his head from the water and whinnied nervously.

"Someone there?" Sam called out. He didn't expect to get an answer. It was probably an animal rustling in the bushes. He couldn't help but remember Al's quip the night before about his singing and animals. He felt a little worried when again, he heard the sound.

The bushes seemed to be in an argument when a moment later, two men emerged from the brush. One of them held back while the other moved forward. "We weren't sure who we'd meet following that stream. Our plane crashed and we're hoping to find someone to help us out."

The man who spoke was shorter than Sam. Sam wasn't sure, but he thought he might be shorter than Al as well. What the man seemed to lack in height, though, he made up for in muscle. His companion was younger than he was and at least a head taller, thin and lanky. His blonde hair and pale complexion were a contrast to the shorter man's dark looks.

"You were in the plane that went down?" Sam asked in surprise. He looked the two men over quickly. "Are you both all right? Are you hurt?"

The man that had been speaking continued, ignoring his companion that was being quiet. "Um, no. We're not hurt bad. A few scrapes maybe but nothing serious." He paused. "We are a little hungry. We weren't able to find much edible food in the wreckage of the plane." He kept a tight grip on the duffel bag he was carrying leading Sam to believe it must contain something important.

"We've got plenty. I'm sure we can share. C'mon." Sam led the two men back to the campsite. Turning to them, he introduced himself. "I'm Sam Beckett."

The two men looked at each other. The talkative one offered, "I'm Harry and my friend's Ted."

A few moments later, Al's head popped through the opening of their tent. "Sam? That you? Who's with you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Sam tied Farkel to the tree he'd been tied to overnight then went over to the tent he and Al were sharing. "This is Harry and Ted. They were in that plane we saw go down."

Al looked from Sam to the two men. "Ok. I'll be right out." He popped back into the tent.

In the ensuing time, Rick also made his appearance. He'd heard Sam saying that these men had been in the plane they'd seen going down the day before. "Hi. I'm Rick Nichols. Were you the only two on the plane? Are there others that need help?"

"There was no one else," Harry offered abruptly. "There's just the two of us." He shifted from foot to foot nervously. "You said you had food."

Rick nodded. "Yeah. We have food." He turned to Sam as Al wasn't yet out of the tent, "This means we'll have to go back earlier than planned."

"That's fine," Sam quickly agreed. It would mean an abrupt end to their vacation but the well-being of the crash survivors had to come first. He and Al had been there before. "It's more important we get these two back to civilization."

Al finally exited the tent for good. He looked at the two men that had joined them. "Hi. I'm Al Calavicci. Which of you was the pilot?"

"Uh...me...I mean, I am...was," Ted responded. "I piloted it." He traded a nervous look with Harry.

Something about the way Ted answered the question rubbed Al as wrong, but he figured that maybe the man was just nervous. He continued his questions. "We noticed you were having problems yesterday. What was it? A fuel line or something?"

"Yeah, something like that, I guess. The engine just went dead. Never had it happen on a plane before." Again, Ted traded looks with Harry.

Al considered that. Could be what happened. "Yeah. That can suck."

"That's an understatement," Sam softly said. As he spoke, he unconsciously rubbed his left shoulder.

"Yeah. Ted did his best under the circumstances. We're lucky he was able to land at all," Harry stated, giving Ted a look that said he'd do the talking.

"I know the feeling," Al answered. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the story just didn't quite ring true. He again figured he was just being suspicious again. Sam had pointed out enough times that he did that even when it wasn't called for.

"Why don't we get something to eat for breakfast," Sam interjected. He was anxious, at least for now, to pull the conversation away from anything that would bring up bad memories. "The two of you must be hungry."

"Yeah, you could say that," Ted answered, obviously figuring that discussing food was ok. "We...uh...didn't get a chance to eat much before we took off so it's been a while."

Rick nodded. "I'll get something cooked up right away." He left to get the breakfast started.

Al asked, "So where did you take off from? How much time into the flight were you when the trouble started?"

"Boise," Harry quickly supplied. "We took off from Boise."

"So, not too far. Engine trouble then?"

"That's what he said," Harry interjected. "It just went dead."

"Strange, but I guess that can happen."

Sam listened to the exchange between Al and the two newcomers then moved over toward the tent he and Al were sharing. "Al, can you come in here for a second," he asked as casually as he could.

"Um, yeah, Kid. Be right over." He turned to the other two men. "Excuse me."

"What are you doing?" Sam hissed once Al was in the tent. "Why are you grilling them like that?"

"Like what? I'm just trying to figure out what happened." He didn't mention to Sam that things weren't exactly adding up in his mind. Neither of the men sounded like they knew anything about piloting a plane.

"Asking all those questions? How would you have liked it if someone had done that to us?"

"Someone did do that to me, after we got out of the wilderness. You don't remember 'cause you were in a coma."

"Yeah, well, that was someone who's supposed to do that...or have you joined the FAA or something?" Sam peeked out the tent at the two men. "We should be helping them, not asking them all these questions."

"No, but I...," Al began. Sam gave him a withering look. "Ok, ok. I'll stop. Just seems a little strange, that's all."

"What?" Sam demanded. "What seems strange and don't tell me nothing. I know you too well to know when nothing's nothing and this isn't one of those times."

"I don't know, Sam. I just feel something but I can say what."

"You don't know," Sam said with a sigh. "You don't really have any reason to suspect them of anything but you're still asking all those questions." He stopped and thought for a moment. "If they're up to it, we should talk to Rick about heading back to the trailhead today then the authorities can get involved. If there is something strange, they should be handling it, not us."

Al's head shallowly nodded. "Yeah. I suppose you're right about that, Kid. Ok, I'll stop with the questions." He gave Sam a sad grin. "Sorry the trip isn't turning out the way we'd hoped."

"It's not your fault. We have to help them," Sam quickly responded. His shoulders drooped and he bent down to start gathering their belongings. "I shouldn't have expected any different."

"Yeah, you should have. You deserve a good vacation. One where fate doesn't seem to make its appearance on a regular basis."

"It's just dumb luck not fate," Sam said looking up from where he started to roll his sleeping bag. "I shouldn't complain. We've been where those guys are."

"Yeah. I guess. Let me go out and see what they want to do before we start packing."

"We can't stay here," Sam said as he kept pulling things together to pack. "You go check but we're going to have to head back. The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be there. Who knows," he continued trying for a positive spin, "maybe after we get these guys to civilization, we can come back and maybe get another day or two."

"That sounds good, Kid. I'd like to see you catch another fish." Al opened the tent door and went out to talk with their guide. Noting that the man had almost finished cooking the breakfast he went over to him. After asking about leaving, Rick agreed it was the best course of action. Al then went to the two men. "Are you two ready to try to go back yet? I know you've had to be bush whacking for a while. If you want, though, we can leave here after breakfast. Shouldn't take long to break camp."

"Yeah," Harry quickly answered. "Getting out of the wilderness sounds like a real good idea."

Ted looked at him with a pleading look. "You said we could rest first."

"We have rested, Ted."

"Maybe you have, but…I don't want to start hiking again right after breakfast. Isn't there something about waiting so your food settles or something? You might get a cramp?"

"That's swimming, dummy. Not hiking." He sighed deeply as if this was something that happened a lot. "Ok. Ok. We'll hang around a little but we're leaving before noon."

"Thanks, Harry. You're the best," Ted said gratefully.

"Whatever." Harry turned to Rick. "That food about ready? I think I could eat the horse."

Al shook his head slightly as Rick stepped in and answered. This Harry guy was pretty pushy. "I'll let, Sam know."He went back to the tent. "Come on and eat, Sam. We can pack up afterwards. We won't be leaving for a few hours."

Sam put down his sleeping bag that he'd been rolling and followed Al out of the tent. He pulled Al to a stop and gestured to the two newcomers. "What do you think is in that bag he's carrying?" Al's doubts had planted some seeds of suspicion in him as well.

"I don't know, Sam." Al shrugged. His lips twisted into a teasing configuration. "I thought you wanted me to stop trying to figure them out."

"Yeah, I know," Sam agreed then shrugged. "I guess you just got me thinking. If they didn't have food or anything useful on that plane, what could be so important about that bag that they'd bring it with them? It looks kinda heavy."

"Yeah. I don't know. People are weird sometimes."

"I guess." Sam took another moment to watch the two crash survivors trying to figure out what was in the duffel bag the smaller of the two was carrying. "C'mon, let's go eat," he finally said deciding that he wasn't going to figure it out. Maybe, if an opportunity presented itself, he'd just ask.

Al nodded and the two went over to where Rick was dishing out breakfast. The two other men had pick up their plates and were huddled off to the side, eating as if they didn't know when their next meal would be. Al watched for a moment. "Hey, guys. You don't need to eat so fast. We have more than enough time to start on the trail." The more he spent time with these guys, the more things just didn't seem to add up.

Sam accepted the plate Rick held out to him as he sat down on the ground. "You think they're up to hiking out of here?" he asked eyeing the two men. They hadn't acknowledged Al's admonishment, just continued to shovel in the food.

Rick shrugged. "Well, it makes sense to start. We don't have to go too fast. We have enough food and supplies for us to take a few days getting out. Plus, I can always call for help when we're in range again."

"How long should that be?" Sam noticed that the two men had separated themselves. They didn't seem to be aware of the conversation he was having with Rick. "Even if they say they're up for the hike, they really might not be." Maybe it was just Al's paranoia rubbing off, but Sam was starting to get a feeling that they shouldn't be with the two men any longer than what was absolutely necessary. The sooner they could radio for help, the sooner the authorities would be there to take over

"You remember where we were when I called in about the plane in trouble? That was the edge of the range."

"So a little less than a day, if we can keep the same pace we had coming in." Sam took a deep breath and put a bit of his breakfast in his mouth as he mulled over what he'd been told. "Once we radio it in, do we just wait there or do we keep hiking out?"

"We'll just play it by ear. If they're moving well, we might just meet the sheriff. Otherwise, we'll just wait until they get there."

Breakfast was soon finished. Al, Sam, and Rick finished packing up the campsite. The two men, claiming they'd spent a good part of the night before following the stream took a nap. Sam noticed that Harry used the bag as a pillow and if anyone got within his hearing range, he'd open his eyes.

They woke up fully a few hours later. When it was about noon, the five men and the horse started their hike back to the trailhead.

Rick lead the way followed closely behind by Sam and Al. Ted and Harry brought up the rear and kept themselves slightly separated from the rest but well within sight of them.

"You guys doing all right back there?" Rick asked when he saw the two lagging behind.

"We're good," Harry quickly responded as he and Ted closed the distance between them and the rest of the group. It wasn't long, though, before they started to lag again.

Sam and Al traded looks when they noticed that the two seemed to be purposefully keeping their distance but didn't say anything. Sam tried to allay his own suspicions by reasoning that the two men didn't know them so it could be that they were being careful. After all, they could he harboring suspicions about him, Al, and Rick. That still didn't explain the bag Harry kept a tight hold on, though.

Around two, Rick called a halt to the hike so that they could eat some lunch.

"I don't like it," Al said leaning towards Sam and whispering. "I'm getting a hinky feeling about those two." He pointed with his chin to where Ted and Harry sat a short distance off engaged in a quiet conversation. It didn't look like they were in agreement with each other. "What's with all the whispering?"

"You know," Sam said as reasonably as he possibly could, "they might be thinking the same thing about us. If we keep seeing monsters around every tree, we're going to drive ourselves crazy." Despite his words, Sam's own growing unease wasn't quelled.

After the lunch stop, they hiked for a few more hours before Rick again called a halt. They were moving much slower than they had coming in and hadn't reached the spot where they could radio out again. Rick announced that they were in a good place to make camp for the night. There was a small stream close by that would provide them with water and the area was flat.

While Sam, Al, and Rick pitched the tents and got the camp area set up, Harry and Ted hung back watching. Ted made a tentative offer to help but the three men indicated they had it under control.

There were only the two tents and now there were five of them that they had to shelter. Rick offered the use of his tent to Harry and Ted. When Al and Sam said that he could squeeze in with them, he refused saying that it had been a while since he'd had a chance to sleep under the stars. Sam tried once more to persuade him but Rick was adamant about not crowding in with them.

Not long after dinner, the five men decided to turn in for the night. If they wanted to keep making headway, they'd need to get an early start in the morning.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The men had been hiking for about an hour when Rick suddenly stopped. "Hold on a minute, guys. I want to check something."

The two newcomers looked at each other before Harry spoke up, "I thought you wanted to keep moving."

"I do," explained Rick, "but I just have to check something. Look at it as a short break."

Ted smiled. "Yeah. I'm down with that. Come on, Harry, a break would be good."

Harry let out a deep breath. "Fine. Whatever. A short break."

When Harry and Ted wandered off a short way, Sam approached Rick. "What are you checking," he asked with his voice pitched low.

"I just want to see if we're in range," Rick said, nodding to a rock. "This is where we were the other day. The meadow's just up the trail a bit." He'd put down his pack and was going into one of the outer pockets where the radio was kept.

"Huh. You must know these woods like the back of your hand. I'd never have noticed that. We'll definitely be in range then" Sam happened to glance over to where Ted and Harry were and saw that they were watching what Rick was doing with interest.

"Likely. Only way to be certain is to check. Sometimes the dead zones shift. Ah, here it is." He pulled out the radio and stated to call.

Within seconds, the voice of the sheriff came over the device. "Rick? That you?"

Rick answered. "Yeah. Hey...we picked up a couple of guys at Miller's lake. They said they were from that plane that...." He didn't get any further.

As the sheriff's voice came through the radio, asking something about a third man, Ted got up and approached where Rick and Sam were standing. "Hey, stop that," he commanded as he reached to grab the radio.

Before the sheriff could finish whatever he was going to say, Ted managed to wrestle the radio away from Rick, keying it so the rest of the sheriff's words were lost. "I said don't do that," he reiterated.

"Hey! I need that. Give it back," Rick complained.

The two continued to struggle over the radio as Sam and Al stood by unsure what was happening or what was going on. They weren't paying attention to Harry who came up beside the two struggling men. "He said to drop it," he said menacingly before holding his arm straight out in front of him and firing the gun he clutched in his hand.

Red blossomed high on the right side Rick's chest. His eyes widened in surprise and he collapsed to the ground. Sam and Al were momentarily frozen in shock at what had occurred. Sam recovered his senses quicker and dropped to the ground to try to help the injured man. "I need my pack," he ordered. "I need the medical supplies in it." He ripped open Rick's shirt so he could get a better look at the gunshot wound.

Rick blinked rapidly. "He shot me. He shot me," he said in shock.

Ted moved quickly towards Harry. "Why'd you have to do that, Harry? I would've gotten the radio. You didn't have to shoot him."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "He wasn't listening, Ted. You need to be more forceful. People don't always do what you say, sometimes you gotta show 'em who's boss."

Al meanwhile had moved to Sam's pack and pulled out the requested medical supplies. "I've got 'em, Sam." He moved over to Sam and bent down beside his friend and the injured guide. "He gonna be ok?"

"He should be," Sam answered quickly. "You just hang on, Rick, and I'm gonna fix you up." He flicked his eyes briefly to Al. "There's an IV setup in there and a bag of saline, get it out. He's bleeding a lot and it's the best I've got right now."

"You brought an IV set up?" Al asked surprised. At the look on Sam's face, he amended. "Ok, sorry. Just surprised me." He pulled the requested supplies out of the pack as well as some rolls of gauze.

Ted continued to argue with Harry. "I was being forceful. Sometimes you should give other plans a chance to work before just using that thing. If you'd done that in the first place, we wouldn't even be in this mess. It was a simple bank job."

"I wasn't the stupid teller who decided to push the button when I told her not to," Harry complained. "What are you doing?" he growled when he saw that Sam and Al were trying to help the guide.

"What does it look like," Sam answered tersely. He didn't bother to spare the man a glance keeping his attention on their injured new friend.

"Uh uh…no way. You back away from him," Harry ordered. When Sam ignored him and went on treating Rick, he repeated himself louder. Sam again ignored him. "He's not gonna slow us down," Harry declared before once again aiming the gun at Rick. This time, he shot him point blank in the head.

Sam jerked back as the shot rang out. He felt Rick's blood splatter against his face and arms. "You killed him," he said in quiet shock before repeating it again more loudly. As he did, he quickly rose up from his crouch ready to go on the offensive as well. He didn't get more than a step in Harry's direction before he felt Al's arms wrap around him holding him in place as he struggled against them.

"Sam," Al warned, strain in his voice, "Stop. It won't help Rick."

Sam continued trying to break away from Al's hold. He stopped struggling only when Harry walked up to them and aimed the gun at his face. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your head off next?" the man growled.

Ted started to move forward but stopped as Harry glared at him. It was obvious to Al that with Sam reacting, not unreasonably, to Rick's death, he'd better step in. "I'll give you a reason," he said quickly. "Without Rick I'm your only chance to get out of here now but if you harm Sam, I'll get you so lost my grandchildren'll be graduating from college before they find any of our bodies so unless you know how to get out of here, I suggest you back off."

Ted spoke up then. "You know how lost we were when we found them, Harry. If he can get us out of here, he's right. Put down the gun."

Harry hesitated for just a second then lowered the gun. "You're lucky we need his help," he said getting close enough that Sam couldn't help but smell his foul breath as he talked. "You'd be a dead man if we didn't." As he moved away, he backhanded Sam across the face hard enough to knock him from Al's hold and to the ground. Once more, he pointed the gun at him. "Try it again, though, and you might not be so lucky. I know a thing or two about hiking. I could get us out of here if I needed to. I'd just rather it happen sooner than later."

Sam got up and gingerly touched his lip that had started to bleed from the blow. He didn't say anything but he did look at Harry defiantly.

It took every inch of control that Al had developed back in the POW camp not to go after Harry. He knew it wouldn't do him or Sam any good if he did what he really wanted. That would just mean there would be three dead men sprawled on the trail instead of one. No, right that minute, they needed to survive this lunatic. He quelled his need to react and turned to his friend to help him. "Sam, you ok?" Al asked in concern once Sam was again on his feet. He didn't wait for an answer before brushing the younger man's hand away to look at the split lip himself. As he looked at the damage, he couldn't help but react. "You didn't have to do this," he spat out looking over his shoulder at Harry.

"No, guess I didn't," Harry responded with a smirk. "But I felt like it and he'll remember for next time or he can end up like your friend there."

Al felt Sam tense at Harry's crass reference to the man he'd killed in cold blood. While the retired Navy man didn't blame him - he felt the same himself - he also knew from experience dealing with people who put no stock in the sanctity of human life that it was wise to choose the time and place to act. Quietly he told Sam, "not now."

"You son of a bitch," Sam growled ignoring Al's quietly voiced command. Before he could take a step in Harry's direction, he felt Al's hand tighten around his arm and pulled against it.

"Did you say something?" Harry asked menacingly before looking at Al. "You better get your boy in line."

Again, keeping his voice low, but this time putting some steel into it, Al said, "Don't, Sam. Don't push it now." Then, to Harry he said louder and harder, "My 'boy' is just fine." He waved his hand at Sam's shirt and arms, red with their guide's blood. "We need to get him cleaned up though."

"What's the matter?" Harry taunted. "He afraid of a little blood? Maybe it needs to stay on him to remind him of what's gonna happen if he tries anything else."

"Yeah, that would be real smart," Al said taunting back knowing that he needed to show he wasn't fearful. As Harry bristled at the response, Al hastened to continue, "You do realize that animals can smell scents better than humans. He keeps it on him; he's going to attract some carnivore, like grizzlies or wolves. You really want to have to face one of those?" He knew he was mostly blowing smoke but figure the murderer wouldn't know that.

"Maybe we should listen to him," Ted said nervously as he too eyed the mess that now covered Sam. "He sounds like he knows what he's talking about."

Turning the words back at Harry, Al nodded. "Your boy's using his noggin. You might want to heed his advice." With that, he started to pull Sam, still glaring at Harry, away towards the stream.

Sam tried to resist Al's pulling for just a second then gave in. He couldn't resist looking back over his shoulder to glare at the man who'd killed their friend. Even though they'd only known Rick for a short time, Sam had started to look at him as a just that – a friend.

"You try anything stupid," Harry warned, not trying to stop the other two from going to the stream, "and you'll both be regretting it. I can get me and Ted outta here if I have to."

Al tossed over his shoulder a "Yeah, right. Don't worry; we're not doing anything but cleaning up." He moved Sam to the stream. Once there and out of earshot of the man he now realized was likely a psychopath, he said, "I know how you're feeling Sam. I feel the same way, but if we move too soon, Harry's likely to shoot us both. You don't want that, do you?"

"He killed him. He killed him in cold blood," Sam pointed out needlessly. He glanced back at the two criminals' then back to Al. "How can you be so calm? Don't you care?"

Al was surprised at the question. How long had he and Sam known each other? Surely, Sam would know that he was just as shocked and disgusted by what he'd witnessed. Still he voiced his feelings with some heat in his voice. "Of course I care. Rick was a decent man and sure as hell didn't deserve what that bastard did." He started to pull Sam down to the water, mindful that Harry was watching them. "But I'm sure Rick wouldn't want us to throw away the only chance of bringing his killer to justice either." He glanced up the hill seeing the two men in heated conversation, although Harry was still keeping his eyes on him and Sam. "You need to wash up, Kid."

Sam allowed himself to be pulled this time but when they reached the water's edge, he just stood staring at it. He could feel the blood drying on his arms and face. He didn't want to think about what was probably mixed in with the blood. It was better to put that from his mind. "Who's gonna take care of Farkel now?" It was the least of their worries at the moment but somehow the fate of the horse seemed as important as them getting away from Harry and Ted.

Al's mouth turned up in a slight smile. "We'll make sure Farkel's taken care of when we get out of here." His face turned serious again, "But that means we've got to get out of this." His voice turned to a slight pleading. "Come on, Kid. Start cleaning up. I don't know how long this short chance to talk is going to last and we need to make a plan."

Sam knelt down by the stream but hesitated. "I don't have anything to clean up with."

Al gently suggested, "Well, first get that shirt off. Then just use your hands and the water.

Sam pulled the t-shirt off, balled it up, and tossed it aside. Leaning over, he scooped some water up in his hands and started to scrub his face. "It's not coming off," he said after a moment.

Seeing the drips of blood infused water Al told him, "It is, Kid. Just doesn't feel like it."

"No, it isn't," Sam contradicted. He dug his nails into his cheeks trying to clean the drying blood from his face then started in on his arms. "It's not going to come off. It's always going to be there." He tried to scrub harder. "Just like Tom's. It's always going to be there."

Al's heart dropped hearing his friend put what had just happened together with his feelings of Tom. The pain Sam had gone through then had manifested itself in nightmares that Al had learned about last year when they'd been in Hawaii together. Al had felt that many of those feelings had been resolved but hearing Sam talk know, the older man knew they were still there lurking in the back of the genius' mind, pulled forward by events. Bending down beside Sam, Al took a more active role in helping Sam wash off the evidence of the crime that had been committed by their captor. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and, after soaking it in the water, used it to gently wash away the remaining blood from Sam's face. "Sam, don't do this to yourself. Rick's death had nothing to do with you. Look...it's almost gone." Indeed, there were few traces left of their guide's blood.

"It's my fault," Sam answered hotly. "I brought them into camp." He submitted to Al's assistance. "It's my fault," he repeated in a softer voice.

"You didn't know. None of us did. You can't..." Al was cut off by Harry's voice coming from where he and Ted were standing.

"That's enough, you two. What are you trying to do, take a bath?"

Hearing Harry's voice, Sam tensed and quickly climbed to his feet. "Maybe if I'd listened to you when you said you didn't trust them this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if I hadn't been so damned trusting."

Al looked back and called out, "Almost finished." He turned to Sam, knowing their time alone together was almost up. "No, Kid. I'm always suspicious. It's good that you're willing to give the benefit of the doubt. I'm living proof of that." Counting the seconds and knowing Harry was probably getting antsy again, Al switched gears. "Listen, Sam. We have to be ready to make a run for it but at the right time. Don't do anything until you get a signal from me, but watch for it, ok?"

"Yeah, I'll watch," Sam agreed. He knew what Al had been telling him made sense. If they were going to get out of this one, it meant staying alert and trying to get one step ahead of the other two men. That wasn't going to happen if he kept reacting in anger. He'd do whatever he had to, whatever Al was telling him he had to make sure they made it through this situation unscathed. His carelessness had led to Rick's death. He'd be damned if it was going to lead to Al's death as well.

As the two started back from the stream, Sam grabbed hold of Al's arm pulling him to a stop. "You don't have any kids," he pointed out.

Al smiled, realizing that Sam's mind had finally processed his little speech. "Yeah, but they don't know that, do they?"

"No, I guess they don't" Sam answered with a matching smile. It quickly faded from his face. "How do we get out of this?" The question was mostly rhetorical and he didn't expect and answer from his friend.

"I'm working on it, Sam. I'm working on it." They continued moving back to where their captors were waiting.

When they got back to the the murder scene, Sam grabbed a clean shirt from his pack and pulled it on then started to repack his medical supplies. He looked mournfully where Rick's body was and put down the bandages in his hand. "We need to bury him or something," he said getting up from where he'd been kneeling and going over to the body.

Harry pushed Sam away from Rick's body. "He can rot there."

Sam wasn't going to back down. "We can't just leave him like this. Do you know what will happen?"

Harry shrugged. "Who cares? He's dead."

The sheer cruelty and heartlessness of the words shocked Sam. No words came but again he could feel the anger for this man rising up inside. It was only Al's steadying hand on his arm and the way he said his name that kept him in place.

After providing Sam with a hand to remind him of their goal, Al spoke up. "We can put Rick's body on Farkel. Take off the food for us to carry and tie him on. Then we can let the horse go. Could throw off any dogs they're using to search and besides...it's not like the horse will get very far. Some animal will probably see take-out for lunch." He kept his hand on Sam, applying a pressure he hoped Sam would interpret that he was spinning a tale.

"He's right," Sam chimed having correctly guessed that Al didn't mean the animal any harm. "If you don't want anyone tracking us, it's a smart thing to do."

Harry mulled over what the two men had said. "Sounds like it could work." He gestured to Sam with the gun. "You get that stuff off the nag and you," he pointed at Al, "Get the body on it." He got close to Sam, sneering in his face. "We don't need Pretty-Boy here getting himself all bloody again."

Al's eyes narrowed for just a moment, but he nodded. "Sounds like a plan." He looked over to Ted who'd been mostly quiet for a while. He appeared to be stewing over something and Al figured there had been an altercation of sorts while they were at the stream. It would fit with what he'd seen. He wondered if this was information that might be helpful in getting away. Ted obviously wasn't in 100% agreement his friend.

Over the next fifteen minutes, they took care of the plan. Al felt certain that Farkel would find his way back to his stable and Rick's body would make it back to his family for a proper burial. Once he had the body on the horse, he called over to Sam. "Hey…I need to check what's being packed too. Why don't you get the horse going." Knowing Sam the way he did, he figured the Kid would want to lead the horse away. Harry didn't seem to agree with Al's checking the pack.

Sam got up and took Farkel by the rope lead and pulled him away from the others. Reaching in his pocket, he found the sugar cube he'd slipped in when they were eating breakfast and offered it to the animal. While Farkel chewed it, he rubbed up and down his neck. "You take care of your master, Fella. I promise when this is all over I'll make sure you have a good home." He pulled the lead off the horse and stepped back expecting the animal to move off but he didn't. He stood placidly staring back at Sam. Finally, Sam slapped him on his hindquarters to get him going. The horse gave him one odd look, not expecting this human to do that to him, before trotting away. "Stay safe, boy," Sam whispered as he watched him, "and bring us help."

While Sam was saying his goodbyes to the horse, Al kept Harry occupied by allowing him to assume they were looking to him for direction. Harry took on the role, directing him to pack up the food. Before that, though, he told him to remove Rick's personal items from the guide's pack. Al looked at him strangely at the request, but as he was packing up the food, noticed that the psychopath was taking banded piles of cash out of the one bag and putting it into the now mostly empty backpack.

All understood now why they hadn't had any food with them when they showed up at the camp. He'd begun to suspect what was in the bag when he heard Ted mention 'bank job' and now his suspicions were confirmed. These two had robbed a bank somewhere and from what Harry had said, the violence had begun then. It was also obvious that Ted hadn't been the pilot of the plane as he'd claimed. The short burst of news from the sheriff had made that clear. There had either been a third accomplice or they'd hijacked a plane. Either way, it was likely that person was dead as well. "Hey Sam, come help me finish. We need to balance the packs." He hoped he might be able to pass on what he suspected.

Sam came back from where he'd let Farkel loose. "What do you need?" he asked crouching by Al.

"I think these two guys might have robbed a bank or something. I don't think Rick's the only one they've killed."

"What makes you say that?" Sam started putting as much of the food as he could fit into his pack. He pulled out most of the clothes that were inside of it to make room.

"They mentioned a bank job and I saw Harry putting..." Al started before Harry turned to them.

"You two stop talking. I don't like chatty people, especially when I don't know what they're saying."

"You know," Sam said in a low voice ignoring Harry's command, "I'm really beginning to hate that guy."

"Yeah," said Al. His stomach made a sound and he rubbed at his belly.

Since they hadn't listened, Harry moved over to them. He pulled his gun out again. "Maybe if you don't listen to me, you'll listen to this."

Sam reared up to stand nose to nose with Harry. "Don't just threaten with that thing," he growled. "If you're gonna use it, just use it otherwise get it the hell out of my face."

Harry growled back. "That can be arranged."

Common sense was screaming at Sam to shut up and back away from the maniac in front of him but he wasn't listening to that common sense. "Be my guest. That's your style, isn't it? Killing unarmed people to make you feel like a big man."

Ted finally moved into the group again. "No. Just put the gun away, Harry. You kill him, I'll have to carry the extra pack and we agreed we'd share that one." He nodded his head to the pack that had previously been Rick's.

Al also stood up, and put his hand on Sam's shoulder, pulling him back a little. "Yeah. You wouldn't want that."

Harry's eyes narrowed but a few seconds later, he put the gun back into his waistband. He looked pointedly at Sam. "You're lucky, Buddy. It doesn't make me feel one way or another. I just don't see much use in keeping problems alive."

Ted pulled on Harry's arm. "Hey. We need to get moving. Didn't you say we don't want to stay too long in one place?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah." He started to pull the money filled pack on and nodded toward the other two. "You get those on. We're moving out." He gave Al a look. "And you'd better not move us in the direction of the sheriff 'cause if you do, your friend here will pay."

Al nodded. Before picking up his pack, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of Rolaids. Taking a couple, he popped them in his mouth and then shouldered his pack. He indicated that Sam should pick up his as well. He just hoped an opportunity came sooner than later.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The four men spent the rest of the day hiking mostly in silence. When Sam or Al tried to talk, especially to each other, it was quickly discouraged by Harry and his gun. Although Ted was also armed, he didn't seem as prone to pull the weapon out to make his point.

Al looked up at the sky through the trees. It was already starting to get late and the light was beginning to wane. Two times before Al had suggested that they stop and make camp for the night but Harry had quickly negated the idea. As the light grew dimmer still, Al once again suggested that they stop for the night.

Harry shook his head. "We need to get as far away from where we were as we can. How long is it going to take to get out of this place anyways?"

"It takes as long as it takes. We were five days in where you found us," Al lied easily. "Hiking in the dark isn't going to be good for anyone, so I suggest a break for the night. That is, of course, unless you plan to hike off a cliff."

Harry laughed a humorless laugh. "You think you're a funny man, don't cha."

Ted spoke up. "He has a point Harry. I can hardly see where I'm stepping."

Harry shook his head once more. "We keeping going."

The group didn't go much further before being pulled up short when Sam tripped over a tree root he wasn't able to see in the growing dark. He struggled to regain his balance but burdened by the heavy pack on his back and his growing exhaustion from having hiked nearly non-stop, he wasn't able to. He crashed to the ground letting out a pain-filled yelp.

Al rushed forward. "Sam! Are you ok?" From the way he'd seen him fall, he was sure the answer to that would be in the negative. As he moved, he quickly undid his pack and let it drop to the forest floor before crouching down to check on his friend.

Ted exploded. "See that, Harry? I told you. What if that had been you or me? We need to stop, man."

Sam curled over as much as he could with the pack on his back and grasped his left knee. "My knee," he gasped out. "Hurts, Al."

Al worked at Sam's pack to get it off. "You think you broke your leg?"

Harry shot back at Ted, "Fine. Fine. You want to stop, we'll stop." He turned back to Sam and Al. "He has a broken leg?"

Sam shook his head in the negative. "It's my knee. I felt something pop or something." He moved as best he could to give Al a little more room to get the pack off his back.

"That's good," Al said glad that the worst case hadn't happened. At the look that Sam gave him, he clarified. "I mean good it isn't broken." Having heard they'd be stopping he stated, "We can set up over there in that area. Looks pretty flat."

Harry let out a breath. "Ok. We'll camp there. You two better get started."

Al had finally gotten the pack off Sam. "Give him a minute. We still have to find out how bad the injury is and if he can move."

Sam looked at Harry. He knew Al's answer would be unacceptable to the man and wanted to head off a blow up. "Do it, Al. Don't get him mad. I'll be ok for a little while."

Al shook his head. "He made us wait this long...he can wait a little longer. I want to make sure you're going to be ok."

"Al, this guy's nuts," Sam argued, keeping his voice low as he cut a nervous look in Harry's direction. "You better just do what he's telling you to do." He looked over to Harry with trepidation. "Just help me up and over there and do what he wants."

Harry spoke up, "So what's it's going to be. You gonna keep playing nursemaid or work at getting the camp set up?"

Al looked back at the man. "Listen, my friend just fell. I'm trying to make sure everything's all right, ok?"

Sam looked at Al pleadingly. "C'mon, Al. Just do what he wants and make him happy."

Harry walked over to them. "I have a better way to find that out." He looked pointedly at Sam. "Get up. You start moving, your shadow will too."

Sam nodded shallowly and struggled to his feet. He wasn't able to put much weight on his left knee. When he tried to walk, he started to crumple to the ground again. It was only Al's quick reflexes that saved him from going all the way down. He didn't say anything, just grunted in pain.

"Well, well. Doesn't seem like you're doing too well now, are you?"

"He'll be fine," Al interjected quickly. "I'm sure it's because it just happened. He needs a little rest, right Sam?" Al was hoping that Sam would affirm his words. He didn't want to think how Harry would react to a different scenario. He started trying to think of a way to keep Harry on an even keel.

"Uh, yeah. Just a little rest," Sam quickly agreed. The look in his eyes contradicted his words. If he had to take a guess, based on the feeling in his knee when he fell, the popping sound he heard, and the way he was feeling now, he thought it was going to take more than just a little rest before he'd be moving well. He wasn't about to tell the psycho who was holding them hostage that.

"That doesn't sound too confident to me." Harry pulled his gun once more and pointed it at Sam. "You know what they do to lame horses, dontcha?" he asked with a sneer

Al moved forward trying top put himself as much in front of Sam as well. "No! That's not necessary!"

Ted, who'd been holding back, spoke up as well. "Harry, you really think you gotta do that? Now?"

Sam looked nervously at the gun and licked his lips. "I'll be fine," he said as strongly as he could. "I'm not going to slow you down. We're stopping for the night anyway, right?"

Harry roughly shoved Al out of the way and held the muzzle of the gun under Sam's chin. "Understand this, Pretty-Boy; I'm not going to get stuck out in the wilderness because you can't move fast enough. I don't need any dead weight slowing us down and I don't plan on leaving behind any witness."

When Sam felt the cold metal of the gun digging savagely under his chin, he felt something inside himself shift as, for the first time since the ordeal began; genuine fear took root inside of him and began to grow. He pulled back as far as he could. "I'm not going to slow you down," he said in a shaky voice.

Al heard the fear in Sam's voice and wondered if this situation was bringing back the memories of LA again. He'd seen something, just for an instant, in his eyes that made him wonder if, what he'd hoped was Sam acting for Harry, was instead something very real. He was concerned about saying anything with the gun positioned to deal a fatal blow to his friend. He looked over to Ted, hoping he might speak up again. When he didn't Al swallowed tightly waiting to hear Harry's response.

Smiling cruelly at Sam, Harry dug the muzzle of the gun in the soft under part of his chin before pulling it away. "You're weak and I don't like weak." He backed away a step then threatened, "You better be able to walk on that leg by morning or I will kill you."

Sam swallowed heavily. "I'll be able to," he assured.

Harry put the gun away again. He looked at Al. "I don't know how you got hooked up with this loser." He nodded to the packs. "Now get those things over to the camp area. If we're going to stop for now, I want to eat something."

Seeing Harry put away the gun, Al figured it was better not to push. "Yeah...sure." He lowered Sam back down to sit on the ground. "Just hang tight, Kid," he admonished in a whisper then picked up his pack and started to carry it over to the campsite.

Ted, glad to see the tension relieved picked up the pack with the money. "I'll take this over now, Harry."

Harry nodded to Ted. "Yeah. You do that." He looked back at Sam. "I suppose you can't carry this other pack, can you Pretty Boy?" He looked Sam up and down where he sat on the ground. "Bet that's how you get through life. I've seen how your buddy watches out for you. I'm surprised you're out here in the woods since camping is a more manly pastime." He sneered. "No wonder you tripped on that root."

Sam didn't respond to Harry's taunts. It just wouldn't do him or Al any good if he did. Instead, he struggled back to his feet, bent down, struggling to keep his balance on just one leg, and grabbed the straps on his pack. "I can move it," he quietly said. He wasn't sure how he could without falling to the ground but if it kept this maniac happy, he'd find a way.

Taking a firm hold on the straps of the pack, Sam took a step, dragging it on the ground. It was the only step he took. His left knee couldn't bear his weight and he toppled to the ground again. This time Al wasn't there to cushion the fall and he landed with a jarring thud.

Harry pulled the gun out again. "About what I thought. No way you're going to get any better. Let's just get this over and done with."

When he saw the gun, Sam cowered away from it this time. His defiance from earlier in the day quickly melted away. He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the sight.

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Al had dropped his pack and taken the time to pull out a few more Rolaids. He went back to get Sam's pack and the kid as well. As he moved across the space between the campsite and where Sam and Harry were, he saw a scene playing out that made his blood run cold. For some reason, Sam had obviously tried to do more than he was able and he went down hard. That seemed all the incentive Harry needed to pull out his gun again. Watching Sam cowering, he took off in a sprint. "You do that, Harry, it will be the dumbest move you ever made," Al cried out. He pulled up to a stop between Sam still on the ground and Harry towering over him with the gun.

"The dumbest move I made was listening to you this morning and not getting rid of this problem then. I'm not going to keeping making that dumb move."

Al shook his head. He had to act fast and he started to spin a tale that he hoped would provide Sam with some protection until they got out of the situation. "Don't you know who this guy is?" At Sam's look of surprise, Al continued, suddenly taking the role of a subordinate. "I'm sorry Dr. Beckett. I know I'm just supposed to help you and all, but I haven't done a very good job as your bodyguard. Your family would want me to tell him if it keeps you safe."

Sam was too shocked and confused by what Al had said to say anything. Instead, he lay quietly as his friend continued to masterfully weave a tale.

"Yeah, I know who he is," Harry agreed sarcastically. "He's a wimp, that's who he is. Now tell me why that should be reason to keep him alive?"

"Because, he's also a Nobel prize winning scientist. Don't you even look at _Time_?" Al asked derisively. "He was on the cover last December. Next Einstein ring a bell? Al continued to talk. "I'm sure you've heard of the Beckett's of Connecticut. The family's loaded. He's worth millions alive. Dead, you won't get a cent. Alive, you can ask your own ransom and his mother will pay it. He's her only child and she'll pay anything to keep him safe. I should know. She's paying me a pretty penny to be his bodyguard."

"That true?" Harry asked Sam. When he didn't get a response, he bent down and roughly grabbed Sam by the shoulder. "I said is that true?" Now that he really looked at Sam, he did look a little familiar.

Sam cut a quick look over to Al, shocked that he'd mention his mother and unsure what was prompting him to tell such a wild story. He saw something in his friend's eyes, though. Something begging him to go along with the ruse and he nodded slightly.

A smile broadened on Harry's face. "All right! This is making more sense now. If you're just working for the nerd, you're not exactly friends then." He tilted his head. "Millions..." It was obvious the man was already counting chickens.

"We are friends," Sam quickly corrected. He didn't care what Al's plan was for telling his tale, he was not going to let their relationship be compromised or mocked. It meant too much to him for that.

"He's right," Al quickly agreed. "I've known Sam practically his whole life. I started working for the Beckett's when he was a little kid. They've always treated their help as family. He's not just my employer." Al continued to add details to the story.

Harry shrugged off Al's explanation. "Whatever." He squatted down so he was nearly nose to nose with Sam. "You just bought yourself some time, Doctor." He used Sam's title derisively conveying how he felt about him. "I'll keep you alive - for now - but once your mother pays up, who knows. I've never killed a snotty east coast millionaire before." He let out a quick bark of laughter and got to his feet again. Looking at Al he demanded, "Get him and that pack over there. I don't have all night and I'm hungry."

Al slung the pack over one shoulder and helped Sam to his feet. He slung the younger man's arm over his shoulders and they made their slow, limping way over to the designated campsite

"Why'd you tell him that?" Sam asked lowly as they walked. He peeked a look over his shoulder to make sure Harry wasn't close enough to hear.

Al also made sure they wouldn't be heard. "I had to do something. In case you missed it, he was going to blow your brains out."

"I know that but you shouldn't have brought my mother into this. What if you've put her in danger?"

They reached the flat area that they were using for the camp and Al lowered Sam back to ground near a large rock that he could lean his back on. "He has no idea where she is or even who she is," Al explained. "At this point, his only clue is the Connecticut Beckett's. The last place he'd look for her is Hawaii and he'll be caught long before he could ever endanger her in any case."

"You'd better be right."

Al noticed that Sam's voice had taken on a hard edge. It seemed he'd pushed aside whatever it was that caused him to cower when Harry had threatened him and his natural assertiveness was coming to the fore. Still, he was confused by what was making Sam go back and forth between the two.

"Trust me on this, Kid. She'll be fine." He opened Sam's pack and pulled out the medical kit that was in it. "Ok, what do we do about this knee of yours?"

Before Sam could answer, Harry came over to where they were. "I said I was hungry not for you to play Florence Nightingale to the wimp here." He looked down at Sam with contempt and sarcastically asked, "You need him to kiss your booboo and make it all better" as he took a threatening step in Sam's direction.

Again, Sam pulled himself back as far as he could from the looming presence of Harry. "It's ok, Al. Get him some food. I can wait." His eyes flicked nervously between his friend and Harry.

Al again noticed how Sam pulled back fearfully from the psychopath. In one way he was glad that Sam would be safe but again he had a nagging suspicion that this wasn't all play acting. He ignored Harry's order and instead kept pulling items out of the medical kit. "You want him to be able to move tomorrow, we need to take care of him now. Otherwise, you won't get a dime of his millions." He reached over for his pack and threw it in Harry's direction. "There are some dehydrated meals in there. I'm sure you can boil water and add it to them and make your own damned dinner."

As Harry was about to demand again that Al make him something to eat, Ted came over intervening once again. "C'mon, Harry, let him take care of Beckett. I can make one of those dehydrated meals." When Harry seemed reluctant to move, Ted tugged on his arm. "He's right. If we're gonna get any money off this guy he needs to be able to move."

Harry finally gave in and moved off with Ted but not before kicking Sam's injured knee. When he heard the grunt of pain that elicited, he laughed cruelly.

Al did all he could to stay where he was and not beat the hell out of Harry when he inflicted more pain on Sam. "He should have been the one that root tripped up."

"Yeah," Sam agreed before wincing again. "Except he should have broken his neck."

"That would have been justice," Al agreed as he noted that once again Sam's fearfulness seemed to evaporate to be replaced by anger. Again he hoped that this wasn't some symptom that Sam was being pushed too far emotionally by everything that had built up to now. He studied him carefully for a moment. Maybe the Kid really was that good an actor. He shook off the mystery. He wasn't going to figure it out without asking Sam outright and if something were wrong, that could end up upsetting the younger man and setting him off. "So, what do we do about this knee of yours?" he asked instead.

"RICE," Sam answered with a sigh.

"Rice?" Al questioned confused by what his friend was talking about. "Hate to tell you, Kid, but we don't have any and I don't see how it would help anyway."

"No," Sam said seeing how his friend could be confused. "Not the grain, rice. RICE. It's an acronym for rest, ice, compression, and elevation. It's recommended first aid for this type of injury."

"Oh. And just what type of injury would this be? You said your leg wasn't broken but you didn't say what it was."

"Near as I can figure, I did something to my ACL...tore it or strained it or something." Sam watched as behind Al, Harry and Ted seemed to get into some kind of disagreement regarding which of the dehydrated meals to make.

Al remembered a friend that had torn his ACL in a football game. "Won't that require surgery to fix?"

"Maybe," Sam sighed. He wasn't eager to add yet another round of surgery to his collection. "If it's not too bad, it could be treated conservatively."

"I hope that happens." Al looked into the medical kit. "Now...rest, I'm pretty sure we can get you. Ice not a chance. Compression, we can use this ace bandage you brought and elevation, we'll make sure it happens."

"There should be a chemical cold pack in there. That'll work for the ice and you're going to have to wrap it tight so it provides support."

Al looked into the kit. He pulled out a shiny package. "This what you're talking about, Kid?"

"Yeah, that's it." Sam reached for the cold pack and took it from Al. He bent it in half breaking the inner chemical bag and activating it then handed it back to Al. "After you wrap my knee, use one of the other ace bandages to hold that in place."

"Ok, Sam." Al followed the younger man's instructions. He had to start over once with the ace bandage when Sam said he wasn't doing it tight enough. When he finally got it the way Sam wanted it, he attached the cold pack. Finally, with Sam's leg taken care of he asked, "So, you hungry?"

"Yeah, but I don't think Mr. Charisma's gonna let me eat."

"He wants to get a hand on your 'millions.' He'll feed you."

"Yeah, the barest minimum, I'm sure." Sam rubbed his hands up and down his arms. "It's starting to get cold out here, isn't it?"

"Sun's just about down, Kid, and we're pretty high up still. Let me get something for you out of your pack.

"I don't know what's in there." Sam watched as Al pulled items of clothing out of his pack. "I took out some of it to make room for the food and I don't know what I left behind."

Al was frowning. "You've got t-shirts, underwear, and socks. Didn't you keep any pants or sweats?"

"I don't know. Like I said, I didn't pay attention. I didn't think our fearless leader would have tolerated that." Sam looked through what Al had pulled out of his pack seeing that it was indeed what his friend had told him. "I guess I'll just have to make do with this. It shouldn't get too much colder and my sleeping bag should be warm enough as long he let's me keep it." He didn't have to say who the "he" was. "What's he got against me anyway?"

"Beats me, Kid. I guess you just..." Al was cut off by Harry's return.

"That dehydrated food wasn't very good. Don't suggest it again."

Sam was ready to voice his agreement with Harry's assessment of the dehydrated food but bit off his words before he could say them. He didn't think it would be appreciated and he didn't want to be agreeing with a psycho even if it was true that the food was horrible.

Al closed his eyes for a moment, gathering patience. He opened them again and responded. "Gee, so sorry. Not likely to get a four star meal out in the woods, now are we?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Think you're a funny man, don't you." He nodded toward Sam, noticing his wrapped leg. "You got him taken care of?"

Al nodded. "It'll do. Should be better in the morning." He wasn't sure that was the truth, but he wasn't going to let on that Sam might still have some challenges.

"It will be," Sam said with as much confidence as he could muster.

Ted walked over. He gave Sam a small smile. "You really win the Nobel Prize? What'd you do? Come up with some cool invention or something?"

"You're thinking of patents," Al said dryly.

"Al," Sam said in a warning note before answering Ted. "No, not an invention. Not exactly." Unlike Harry, Ted didn't seem take joy in tormenting him. "It was in physics for my work in neural holography."

"Neural what?" Ted asked.

"Holography," Sam repeated. "You know, holograms and stuff."

"Nerd stuff," Harry interjected. "Probably some pie in the sky mumbo jumbo."

"Yeah, pie in the sky," Sam agreed softly as he sagged back against the rock.

Ted looked confused. "Holograms? Like those really weird post cards?"

"Kinda," Sam agreed. He didn't want to get in a discussion with either of the two criminals about the work he'd done or his theories. Frankly, he didn't think either one of them would be able to understand even the barest minimum of it. "It's kind of hard to explain."

Harry looked at Ted. "See? Mumbo Jumbo. Betcha it's just smoke and mirrors anyway. That's what they teach these rich kids at those universities."

Al, feeling he needed to defend Sam, disagreed. "Not smoke and mirrors. Cutting edge science."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever." He told Al, "You need to get the tents put up. I want to get an early start tomorrow."

"Help me over to the fire and then why don't you get them set up," Sam suggested.

Al nodded. "Ok, Sam. Then I'll get us something to eat."

"You can have one of those dehydrated things," Harry conceded. "But only after you get the tents put up."

Al looked over to Harry. "Didn't you notice...they're individual? We'll need two."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. Ted and I each had one but you two are going to have to share."

"Why's that?" Al asked.

"Cause I said so, that's why," Harry responded. "Listen, you're eating aren't you?"

"It'll be enough," Sam said trying to smooth things over. "I'm really not very hungry anyway."

"Watching your figure, Pretty-Boy?" Harry asked the laughed cruelly when Sam looked down and away.

"Why are you keepin' at him, Harry?" Ted asked pulling on his partner's arm. "I thought you said he was worth money to us."

"So? We'll get the money, but I don't see why I can't get some entertainment value out of him as well."

"I guess," Ted agreed uneasily. "I'm just not sure why you gotta keep pickin' on him. We'd probably still be lost if we hadn't bumped into him."

"We would have run into someone."

Al said, barely audible, "Wish you'd walked off a cliff instead."

"Met a bear," Sam added just as softly.

Harry turned to Al, annoyed. "Quit the mumbling and get those tents up. It's getting chilly."

"Yeah. That's the mountains for you." He looked over to Sam."You gonna be ok?"

Sam nodded indicating he'd be fine where he was when Al looked at him questioningly. "Sooner you get them up, the sooner we can eat."

A softer look replaced the confusion. "Yeah. We'll get you fixed up, Kid." Al patted his friend on the shoulder and walked away. Once more he took a few of the Rolaids. His stomach was really bothering him. He figured it was the stress.

"Hurtin' bad?" Harry asked once Al had walked away. As he asked, he nudged Sam's injured knee with his foot laughing cruelly when he saw the pain he inflicted. Once he'd had his fun, he started to walk over to where Al was setting up the tents so he could supervise. Before he left he added a final statement. "Hope you're not paying him a lot 'cause he's done a really bad job if he's supposed to be your body guard." He chuckled as he moved away.

"Don't get him mad," Ted advised Sam once Harry had moved off. "He gets real mean when he's mad."

"Seems to me, he's real mean no matter what," Sam opined.

Ted looked away and rubbed on his neck nervously. "Well, we've both had a pretty rough life."

"Like what?" Sam asked, wondering if maybe he could find the reason why Harry was the way he was.

"It was just rough. Something a rich guy like you wouldn't know about."

Sam thought he was going to going more detail but instead the man told him that he didn't want to hear any more talk.

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When Harry came over and started to tell him what to do, Al bit the inside of his lip. What he really wanted to do was knock the man's block off. Harry told him to put the tents up close together. Al made quick work of setting up the tents then moved back over where Sam was. Ted went over to where Harry was and the two men once more had a few minutes to talk. "I guess I have to move now, huh?" Sam asked after Ted left.

Al tilted his head. Do you want to move?"

"Yeah, I'd like to move about a thousand miles south to New Mexico." He looked up at Al, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You think you can arrange that and leave Laurel and Hardy here behind?"

Al smiled. "I wish." He turned serious. "You're never going to go on vacation with me again are you?" He said it rhetorically. Noticing Sam shivering, he reached down to help his friend up. "Let's get you over to the fire, Kid."

"We're going to Rome in four and half years, remember." Sam grunted in pain when Al helped him up from the ground. He kept talking about their planned trip to Rome as they moved to keep his mind off the pain moving caused. "If I don't go with you, who's going to translate for me?"

"Well, I could teach you Italian."

"Not the same thing." As Al lowered him to the ground close by fire, Sam let out a sigh of relief both because he wasn't moving anymore and because he was able to feel the warmth the fire threw off.

"True, but it wouldn't hurt to at least teach you a little Italian."

Harry, overhearing the conversation, observed. "What? Now you're his teacher? I'm surprised you don't wipe his butt as well."

Hearing the taunting, Sam hung his head down. "I wish he'd let up just for a little while."

Al looked at Harry with a cherubic face. "You speak Italian?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Don't see much use for learning someone else's language."

Al nodded. "I figured you might say something like that." He smiled. "Su fogu ti pighidi."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Al shrugged. "I said we need to build a bigger fire." He grinned as he thought that was sort of true. What he'd actually said was a curse in Italian, "May you be set on fire." He loved the lyrical way such things were said in his father's tongue.

Sam waited until Harry had moved away from them before asking. "What did you really say?"

Al smiled. "I said what I felt. I wished he was the firewood."

Sam smiled in agreement with Al's wish then rubbed his hands up and down his arms. "It's August. Why's it so cold tonight?"

"You're in the mountains, Kid, remember. High altitude does that. Less air pressure, more heat loss." He noticed Sam shivering more. He knew Sam knew about high mountain temperatures. The fact he was asking meant that his complaints of being cold could be the early stages of hypothermia. "Let me see what I can find for you to wear."

"I don't suppose I left my windbreaker in my pack, did I?"

"I'll check." He went over to Sam's pack and found the windbreaker in a side pocket. After giving that to the kid, he went over to his own pack and went through it. There wasn't much that would come close to fitting Sam, but he did find what for him was an overlarge sweatshirt. It had been one that always brought him luck and he'd figured if there'd been trouble with the fishing, he could wear it. Now, the main thing was it would provide Sam with a little warmth even if it were a bit too small for the larger man. He didn't have anything in the way of pants that would work for his friend though. He walked back over to the kid. "Here you go. Your legs will still be cold but your core will stay warm."

"Thanks." Sam took the windbreaker and sweatshirt. He put the windbreaker down beside him and unfolded the sweatshirt. "Al, this isn't gonna fit. This is yours, not mine." He started to hand the sweatshirt back to his friend.

"Sam...it might not fit well, but it will keep you warm. Besides, you can put the windbreaker over it.

Blowing out a breath, Sam pulled the sweatshirt on. It fit close to his body because of its size and the sleeves ended a couple of inches above his wrist. Harry, who'd been watching from a short distance away, started laughing. "Gee, your mother's not around so your bodyguard dresses you funny? That takes the cake," he said between hoots of laughter.

"I'm not wearing it," Sam said as he started to pull the sweatshirt off. "I'm not giving this guy anymore fuel."

Al's eyes narrowed and a simmering anger boiled just below the surface at the bastard's taunts. Quietly he said to Sam. "Don't listen to him, Kid. You need to keep in your body heat. Even in summer, hypothermia is a possibility."

"I don't care, Al. I really don't. I've been trying not to let him bother me but I just can't do it anymore. I just can't." He finished pulling off the sweatshirt and threw away from him. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and my knee hurts." Despite the seriousness and danger of the situation they were in, Sam couldn't help the petulance he was feeling. "I wish I'd just stayed home." He paused, "Or chosen next weekend."

Al nodded. "Yeah." His voice was heavy with dejection. He was beginning to wonder if he was an albatross to Sam. It seemed whenever they did something together, things just didn't work out the way that they should have. The trip to Colorado on the plane, the trip to Washington, the ski vacation, the gas station in May, and now this. "I'm sorry, Kid. We shouldn't have come. I was just too eager."

Sam saw the dejection on Al's face and felt bad about his whining. "No, Al. We didn't know this was going to happen. Besides, it was fun when we started. We didn't know this was going to happen." He reached over and grabbed the sweatshirt again and put it back on. "Thanks for the sweatshirt. I guess it's more important that I'm warm than what I look like."

This time, Ted had cornered Harry in a conversation as Sam put the clothing back on. By the time he'd put it on, the windbreaker was covering most of the size issue. "Let me go get that food, Sam. We may have to share but it will be enough."

"It's our food," Sam stated as if that would make a difference. The dehydrated food wasn't his favorite thing to eat and never would be but right now, he didn't care. He just wanted food.

"Yeah, but the nozzle's the one with the gun and a hair trigger attitude. For now, I think we let him call the shots. We've got to be ready though. His reign of terror won't last forever. That's a promise."

"Ready for what," Sam asked wryly. He gestured to his knee. "I'm not going to be able to get anywhere with this." He sighed and shook his head before looking down. "I really screwed up."

Al looked down at Sam's knee when he gestured to it. "You didn't screw up. The bozo over there did." Sighing he added. "We'll figure something out, Sam." He gave his friend a pat on the back. "In the meantime...I'm going to fix our dinner." He got up and went over and got his campstove and pot to boil the water.

Sam sat in thought for a moment after Al had moved away. Across from the campsite, Harry and Ted were deep in some kind of conversation. Everyone once in a while, one or the other would look in his direction and gesture wildly. One time when Harry looked over, he pretended he shot at Sam with his fingers. Determined that he was not going to do anything that would put Al's plan in jeopardy, he awkwardly and painfully got up. The elastic bandage should give his knee some support, now he just had to see how well he could walk. He took couple of steps in Al's direction, limping heavily. His knee had enough support that it wasn't giving out on him but the pain escalated with each step. He wouldn't be able to move very far and he certainly wouldn't be able to move with any kind of speed.

Al watched as Sam limped over to him, obviously in pain. He held out a bowl, keeping one for himself. There was more in the one he handed to Sam than his own. He smiled. "I know it's not your favorite cuisine, but it's hot." He'd fixed the chicken tetrazzini that he remembered Sam had at least said was edible the last time they'd camped.

"Thanks." Sam accepted the bowl and sat on the ground where he was. He just couldn't face the pain walking back to where he had been sitting would bring. He stirred the contents of the bowl and put a small bite in his mouth. It didn't taste any better than he remembered it but at least it was hot food. As Al sat down with his bowl of food he reminded, "I need to elevate my leg or it's going to really swell."

"Yeah," Al agreed. He noticed a small boulder a little ways away that was rounded and smooth. "Will that work to put your leg on?" He said nodding to it. He figured it was small enough for him to move to Sam.

Sam eyed the rock in question. It may have been smooth but that didn't take away from the fact that it was a hard rock. "I was thinking I could just use one of our packs."

Al smiled sheepishly. "That would work too." He went over and retrieved his pack. It was softer since it had more clothes in it. "How do you want to do this, Kid," he asked not wanting to jar the man's leg any more than necessary.

"Just do it fast," Sam suggested. No matter what, the movement was probably going to hurt. "You didn't have to get right up for it. You could have finished your dinner."

Harry had come over to see what was going on. He heard Sam's statement. "Isn't that nice. Treating the help with kindness."

Al moved the pack into position ignoring Harry's words. They weren't worth responding to.

"Leave me alone," Sam mumbled before once again eating his dinner.

Al grabbed his own bowl then and continued eating with Sam. Although there wasn't much, he figured it was better sharing a meal with Sam like this than being the guest of honor at some horse's ass reception.

"What did you say?" Harry snarled barely hearing what Sam had said. He reached down and knocked the bowl out of Sam's hands spilling the contents on the ground. When Sam looked down, not answering him, he twined his fingers in Sam's hair and used the hold to painfully pull his head up and back. "I said, what did you say?"

Al stood up immediately, putting his bowl to the side thinking that as little was in the bowl, he and Sam could still share it. With a reasoned heat in his voice, he put his hand on Harry's indicating with the pressure that he expected the man to release Sam. "Let him go. He's hungry and you just spilled the little you'd allowed him on the ground, you bastard. Leave him alone."

"Ah. The bodyguard speaks." With a flourish, he released Sam. "Too bad about the food, huh." He moved away again.

When Harry released him and moved away, Sam picked up the bowl with shaking hands eyeing the small amount that hadn't spilled out. "I can't do it anymore, Al. I can't."

Al squatted next to Sam and rested a reassuring hand on his back. "He's a bully, Sam. Don't let him have that power over you kid. You're better than he is." He took his bowl and offered it to Sam. "Here. You need this more than I do."

"No, thank you," Sam answered quietly. "He'll just get mad if I take it." He didn't say anything about Al's assessment of Harry being a bully. He'd known a few of them growing up but nothing like this. He'd been able to hold his own against the bullies of his youth but Harry had found a way to get to him.

"How about I sit here with you and we share it. Same bowl. Besides, my stomach's off and I don't want this portion to go to waste either."

Sam finally agreed, retrieving his spoon from the other bowl. Each time he took a bite, he did it quickly as if he was afraid to upset Harry again. When they were finished, Sam pulled his arms around himself and pulled up his legs.

Al watched as Sam pulled into himself. He knew what psychological torture was having lived through it for the years he'd been in Vietnam. Harry may not realize it, but his techniques weren't unlike some of those of his captors and Sam was ripe for the abuse. He still hadn't been able to completely reconcile with the events of their Los Angeles trip and now this. He patted Sam lightly on the back.

Harry told Al to do the clean up. He looked over to Sam who seemed lost in his own thoughts. Once more his stomach railed at him. He looked over to his friend and said quietly to himself, "Hang in there, Kid. We'll get through this."


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When Al set up the two tents, he was sure that he'd be with Sam during the night. He was surprised when Harry told Sam to get into the tent with him. There were three sleeping bags and, as in Harry's typically kind manner towards Sam, he'd decided that the Nobel Prize physicist could do without one. He was going to keep an eye on him to make sure that his millions didn't disappear.

Al, he announced, could sleep outside under the stars since Ted wasn't comfortable sharing his tent with a stranger. "Remember, we need to move quickly in the morning," Harry said waiting for Sam to move into the tent.

"I'm doing the best I can. I need help," Sam snapped.

"What kind of help? You need someone to change you into your jammies and tuck you in?" Harry asked snidely.

Sam pulled in a deep breath at the words trying not to let them bother him. "I need help getting in the tent. The bandage needs to be re-wrapped because the swelling's making it too tight and my leg needs to be elevated. Are you going to help me?" Some of the anger he'd felt earlier in the day seeped into the final question.

Al, noticing Harry body language changing to meet Sam's challenge stepped forward. "He's right. You want him to walk tomorrow, he needs that help. Let me get him settled and then you can go to sleep."

Harry looked at Al. "Fine. Take care of him. Just make sure it's done quickly."

"I don't want to be in here alone with him," Sam said in a low voice once Al had helped him into the tent. Al was unwrapping the ace bandage from around his knee so that it could be rewrapped to accommodate the swelling.

"I know, Sam. I know. Right now, we don't have any choice." Al bit his lip. "When you started standing up to him a minute ago, I noticed he started reacting like he has several times today. Keep up the act, Kid. Please. I couldn't live with myself if this trip ends up getting you killed. Promise me you won't do that."

"What do you mean? No matter what I do, he does the same thing. Besides, he's not going to kill me. I'm his goose that laid the golden egg."

"That may only go so far." Once he had the bandage off, he whistled. "It looks pretty bad, Sam."

Sam raised his head to look at his knee then put it back down to look up at the tent ceiling. "It feels worse than it looks, if that's any consolation." He blew out a slow breath. "Just wrap it back up. That's all we can do for now."

Al nodded. "Ok, Sam." He wrapped the knee following Sam's directions and then maneuvered his pack into place to provide the elevation that the leg needed. "I'd say pleasant dreams but somehow I think that would be a wasted breath."

"I'd settle for a bad dream if it meant I got to sleep for a little while." Sam tried a small smile to alleviate the concern he saw on Al's face. "Don't worry about it. Morning will come soon enough."

Al nodded. "Yeah."

They didn't say anything else before Harry's voice called out. "Ok, that's enough. Comfy or not, it's enough."

When he heard Harry's voice, Sam stiffened up. "Go. He might think I'm worth a lot of money but he might think you're expendable."

Al gave Sam a grin. "I'll be ok. The Calavicci's are like cats. We have at least nine lives and I've only used up two of them."

'I don't want you to use up the rest because of me." Harry again demanded that Al come out of the tent. "Please, just do what he's telling you to."

Al nodded. "Ok. Night Sam."

"Good night, Al." Again, Sam tried a smile to set Al's mind at ease but wasn't successful.

Al backed out of the tent. Harry, figuring the bodyguard would stay close to his charge, nodded to the sleeping bag that Al had been relegated to. Al noted it was Sam's. That didn't really surprise him considering his and Rick's were both newer while Sam had his for a few years. He couldn't believe it had just been about a week before that he'd tried to convince Sam to get a new one. It seemed more like a lifetime ago.

"You know, I don't really need this. I'm used to sleeping out under the stars. Maybe Sam can use…"

Harry cut him off. "No. Little rich kid needs to sleep without, not be pampered by his nursemaid."

"I'm not his nursemaid," Al said evenly, trying to keep his temper. "I'm his bodyguard."

"Whatever. Point is, if you don't use the sleeping bag, nobody does."

"Fine," Al answered, his jaw tight. He got into the bag and watched as Harry climbed into the tent beside Sam. He hoped that he wouldn't give Sam any more grief tonight before rolling over on his side. As he tried to get comfortable he discovered two things. The first was that in the years that Sam owned the bag, the padding had shifting to fit the body of his friend. The second was that Sam's scent was an integral part of the bag.

Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, Al whispered to the wind, not willing to accept there was anything else out there but figuring it couldn't hurt. "Help him. He's had enough. Just get us out of here in one piece and if not us, him." With all the hiking they'd done, Al was beat but he lay there in the darkness, listening for any sign that Sam was in distress. Soon, though, he fell into sleep as the campsite grew quiet - all the other inhabitants having found the way to their rest. Only the stars in the sky seemed to be keeping watch.

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No more than a couple of hours had gone by since they'd all retired for the night. Sam hadn't been able to fall asleep in that time. Aside from the fact that sharing a tent with a homicidal maniac did nothing to soothe him, his knee had started to throb in time with his heartbeat.

He tried to stay as still as he could but was unable. He frequently shifted trying to find a comfortable position where it didn't feel like his knee was being torn apart and where he felt a little warmer. A few times, he found himself inching closer to the only source of warmth in the tent - Harry's body heat. When he realized what he was doing, he'd pull back just as quickly.

Harry had initially dropped off to sleep but the constant movement beside him woke him. "Quit your moving," he said was a gruff voice.

"I'm sorry," Sam quickly apologized. He did his best to stay as still as possible but it didn't last long before he had to shift again.

Yet again, he woke Harry up. "You going to do that all night?"

"I'm just trying to get comfortable," Sam quickly explained before again apologizing.

"Well just stop moving. I can't sleep when you do that." He rolled over to go back to sleep.

"I'm not doing it on purpose," Sam snapped. "I'm cold and my knee hurts. You're the one who wanted to keep me close by."

Harry sat up. "That was a bad choice on my part. You can go out and sleep with your bodyguard." Harry figured with Sam's leg, there was no way either of them would be leaving.

"Fine," Sam huffed. "I need a sleeping bag if you want me to do that. It's not exactly warm out there." Tired, cold, and in pain, he threw caution to the wind dealing with Harry. As he'd told Al, it didn't seem to matter what he did, the man had it out for him.

"Your bodyguard can give your's back to you. That's what you pay him for, right?"

"Bastard," Sam hissed. "It's too cold for him to do without one."

"Not according to him."

"He was trying to protect me," Sam said, knowing it was true. "I won't take the bag away from him."

"Then maybe you can just share it. I don't care. Right now, you need to get out there."

Realizing that any further argument would be useless, Sam slowly started to move to exit the tent. Unfortunately, he didn't move fast enough for Harry who made his displeasure known. Pushing at the man and bumping his leg cruelly, he told him, "be sure to take this pack as well. Takes up too much room."

When Harry hit his injured leg, Sam couldn't contain a bit off scream. He'd hit the injured joint just right to send fiery waves of pain pulsing through it. He curled over on his side clutching the injured area and breathing hard.

"Didn't you hear me? I said get out." Harry didn't seem to care that the pain made it nearly impossible for Sam to move.

"Go to hell," Sam gasped out.

Having heard Sam scream, Al popped up immediately. He moved to the tent where his friend was to hear Sam telling the psychopath to go to hell. This didn't bode well in his opinion.

"What did you say to me, you egghead?" Harry pushed out again and hit the leg. "You want me to break that leg instead? Then I'd have good reason to kill you, money or not."

Sam did his best to pull away from the murderer but in the small confines of the tent, he wasn't able to get far. "Al," he called out in desperation. "Al, help me."

The moment Al heard the threat he'd started to open the tent entry. He'd just stuck his head in when Sam's pleas reached his ears. "I'm here Sam." He looked at Harry, hatred in his eyes. "You bastard."

"Yeah. Bad to the bone I am," Harry said with a grin. "Now get him out of here. You can lose sleep. I'm not going to."

Al helped Sam to move out of the tent. "What damage did he do, Sam?" Al asked as soon as he'd moved both Sam and the pack out of the tent.

Sam shook his head wordlessly before curling up on his side as close to the fire as he could get. "He wants to kill me," he said tonelessly staring at the flames.

Al blinked. "I won't let that happen, Sam."

"How? If you try to stop him, he'll kill you." He rolled over so that he could face Al, intensity in his voice as he spoke. "I won't let that happen," he said with an emphasis on the I. You promise me you won't do anything to cause that."

Al looked at Sam and made his decision. "We've got to get out of here, Sam. This is the best chance we have. If Ted didn't wake up when you screamed, it's likely he'd sleep through a nuclear blast. Harry, I'm not sure about. I think we can sneak out without him knowing we've left."

Sam mulled over what Al had said then shook his head. "No, it won't work. You need to go without me."

"You just said he wants to kill you. You think I'm going to leave you here to be cut down like Rick?"

"I'll only slow us down, Al. If you go, you can get help faster. I'll be ok until then." Sam looked away from his friend and back to the fire. "Remember, even if he wants to kill me, he's not going to do that until he gets his golden egg."

"That's not a guarantee, Kid. He's unstable as Mount Vesuvius the day Pompeii was destroyed."

"Al, c'mon, you know I'm right." Sam decided that if he used reason, it was most likely to get through with Al. "If he comes out here and doesn't see us, you know he's going to come looking. After that tale you told, he's not going to just let me get away. Besides, we're witnesses. We know what he's done and you know how he feels about that. How far are we going to get before he catches up with us? You saw how slow I have to move. He'd catch up with us in no time. If you go by yourself, we have a better chance."

Al usually appreciated when Sam's logic was airtight. Right this moment, though, he hated it. Hated it with a passion. The kid was right though. If he were able to move freely, he could move faster. He'd been watching the terrain all day and was sure he'd be able to move back towards where Rick was killed. It was their best chance since that's likely the direction the sheriff would be heading. With a sigh of resignation, he said, "Ok, Sam. I'll go. I don't like it, but I'll go."

It felt like a weight had been removed from Sam's shoulders when Al agreed to go alone. "Maybe you should wait a little while," he suggest, "make sure he's gone back to sleep so you have a better head start on him."

Al thought about that. He was about to agree with Sam when he noticed Sam clenching his teeth to stave off their chattering. Sure, it was probably due to the cold, he shook his head. "No. If I'm moving, I'll be warm and you can get in the sleeping bag to warm up."

"I'm warm enough. You need to make sure he's out so you have a good chance." Sam looked at Al pleadingly. "He finds out you're trying to escape and he won't think twice about killing you. Don't take that chance. Just wait 15 minutes or so and he should be out."

Al looked at Sam's face and knew he couldn't say no. "Ok, Kid. Fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, Al. Uhm...," he began to ask hesitantly, "you wouldn't mind if I used the sleeping bag for a little while, would you?"

Al grinned and immediately pushed it toward Sam. "Here you go Kid."

"Thanks." Sam grabbed the sleeping bag and pulled it closer to him but looked at in confusion then looked at his leg. "I'm not sure how to do this so I can still get the pack under my leg."

"You've got an old style bag. Why don't you just unzip it and use it like a blanket," Al suggested.

"Yeah, that's probably the best way." While Sam unzipped the sleeping bag, Al slipped the pack back under Sam's leg to make sure it stayed elevated then spread the sleeping bag over him. "We could share until it's time for you to leave," Sam offered. A small smile graced his face. "I promise not to try to use you as a teddy bear or snore."

Al laughed softly. "Ok." He moved over to Sam and pulled a part of the sleeping bag over him. The main reason, though, wasn't because he needed it. He figured if Sam had been sans bag up to that point and in cutoffs as well, he must be cold. Adding his body heat would help his friend warm up again.

"Which direction are you going to head?" Sam asked once Al had slipped under the sleeping bag. He made sure to keep his voice low so it wouldn't carry to Harry in the tent. He didn't want to take a risk that he'd either keep the man from going to sleep or wake him up.

"Back the way we came. I figure that the sheriff likely would be searching that way. I want to run into his group if I can."

"You weren't leading us in a straight line today." Sam may not have been quite as much an outdoorsman as Al was but he knew more than a little bit about survival skills. He'd had a feeling they'd been going in circles today but this was the first time he'd had a chance to confirm his suspicions.

Al nodded. "You figured that out, huh. Not bad, Sam. Not bad at all." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Yeah. I didn't want to get too far away from where Rick was killed. I figure that the sheriff will catch up with us but I'd like to make that sooner than later."

"Sooner sounds good." Despite the gravity of the situation, a yawn split Sam's face. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I'm just so tired." His stomach picked then to grumble. "I guess I'm still hungry, too," he said sheepishly.

Al nodded. He slipped from under the sleeping bag and moved it off of Sam enough so that he could open a hidden pocket on the pack. Pulling out a chocolate Hershey bar, he passed it to Sam. "I would have given this to you earlier, but with everything happening, I forgot I'd stashed it there."

Sam greedily snatched the chocolate from Al's hand. "You're a life saver." He ripped the wrapper off and took a large bite of the chocolate. "I think I just found heaven," he sighed. For just these few moments, under the stars with Al and with Harry hidden away in the tent, Sam could almost forget the circumstances they were in. Just for these few moments he was camping with his friend and all was right. The feeling didn't last long before a jolt of pain went through his knee and he grunted.

Happy that a small thing like a Hershey bar could do so much for his friend, Al answered, "Yeah, chocolate does that to people." A few moments later, though, his concern was regenerated. 'You ok, Kid? Geez, I wish you had something for the pain."

Sam was silent for a few seconds debating whether he should share his secret with Al. He took another bite of the chocolate and decided he should and let Al help him make a decision. "There's a syrette of morphine in the medical kit."

Al was stunned. "You have morphine and you haven't used it yet?"

"I didn't think it was a good idea." He gestured to the tent Harry occupied. "You really think Mr. Charisma would let me? Besides, you know the effect it has on me. I thought it might be a good idea if I kept my wits about me instead of getting all dopey."

"Couldn't you just use a little? Not enough to make you dopey but enough to kill the pain some."

"It's a pre-measured dose, Al. I use less than the dose and I may as well not use it. I can either use it and be pain free but dopey or just deal with the pain and know up from down. There's really no in between."

Al bit his lip. "You get dopey; the bastard's likely to hurt you."

"There's that and if I'm dopey I'm more likely to tell him what direction you've gone in." Sam came to his decision. "I'm more of a danger to you if I use it. I'll just have to grin and bear it."

"You sure?" Al asked, not wanting his friend to be in pain.

"Yeah. I'm sure. Besides," he continued looking for a bright spot, "you'll be back with the sheriff before long and then it won't matter if I'm dopey or not."

"Yeah," Al said, hoping Sam's prediction was a good one. If he had anything to say about it, it would be self-fulfilling prophecy. A good one.

Silence fell between the two men. Sam finished the chocolate bar, savoring each bite of it. Even if Al brought back help right away, he had a feeling it would probably be a while before he'd get a chance to eat again. "You think he's asleep?" he asked after a few more minutes had passed.

Al wasn't sure but he knew he needed to move. Harry would want to start hiking at daybreak and if Al wasn't back by then, the psycho could decide to forego Sam's millions and just shoot him. "Yeah. I'd better head out, Kid." He got up and retrieved a water bottle. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Good luck." Sam held his hand out to Al, grasping his friend's then releasing it. "I promise not to wander off and fall in a dry creek this time," he said hoping to break the tension of the moment.

"Good. I don't want to go through that again." Al said the words kindly. It was going to be almost as difficult to leave Sam now as it was when he had the fever. Both times, he didn't see another choice. "You stay safe, Kid."

"You too," Sam entreated before Al slipped away. He was watching his friend stealthily make his way away from the campsite when he heard a noise behind him. He turned around to see that Harry had come out of the tent. He knew by the way the criminal was staring in the direction Al had chosen to go that his friend had been seen. Throwing caution to the wind and wanting to give Al forewarning that he hadn't gotten away cleanly, he yelled out, "Al, he sees you! Run!"

"Son of a bitch," Harry spat out. He started to move menacingly toward Sam as he yelled, "Shut the hell up!" With the momentum he had, he kicked at the physicist who'd propped himself up on one elbow. Sam collapsed moaning from the new pain in his ribs where the kick had landed.

Harry continued to pummel the man, not even thinking about the damage he might be inflicting. At the sound of the commotion, Ted finally reached the land of the conscious and exited his tent. Seeing what was going on, he rushed over and pulled Harry off of Sam. "Don't, Harry!" He entreated. "Remember, this guy's worth more than any of the banks we've taken down. We get his money and afterwards, we can just find some place in Mexico and hide out."

"Son of a bitch," Harry spat out again, not sure which made him madder. The bodyguard sneaking away or being stopped from taking his anger out physically on Sam. "Calavicci's getting away." He broke away from Ted and gave Sam one more kick. "Tie this worthless piece of shit up and keep an eye on him. I'm going after Calavicci."

Ted blinked. "His bodyguard left him? That doesn't seem right."

Harry looked in the direction Al had run. "Nah. Calavicci's smart. Probably realized that this guy wasn't worth it. Still...I'm going after him." He went back in the tent to get his gun.

When Harry came back out of the tent, Ted was standing over where Sam was huddled on the ground his arms wrapped tightly around him protecting his ribs. "I told you to tie that worthless piece of shit up and keep an eye on him."

Ted looked down at Sam, huddled on the ground in pain. "He's not going to go anywhere, Harry. I don't see why he needs to be tied up."

Harry approached the two of them and stared Ted down. "Because I said so, that's why." He used his foot to roll Sam over onto his back then lightly stepped down on his injured knee. "Where's he heading to?"

A sharp cry was all Sam would allow himself before shaking his head in answer to the question. When he did, Harry stepped down just a little harder pleased to see how the additional pain affected Sam. "I said, where's he heading to?"

"I don't know?" Sam gasped out. There was no way he was going to give this maniac any information that would put Al at risk.

Harry put a little more weight on Sam's knee then stepped back quickly. "It's worthless asking you. You probably wouldn't know north from your nose and if he's ditching you, he wouldn't tell you where he's going. He'd probably be too afraid of you giving it away." He looked off in the direction he'd seen Al disappearing. "Doesn't matter. He doesn't have that much of a head start on me. I'll catch up to him and when I do..." He cocked the gun and pointed it in Sam's direction. "He's gonna get what you should have. Tie him up," he ordered Ted again before running in the direction Al had gone.

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When he heard Sam's scream, Al chanced a look back over his shoulder and saw Harry coming out of the tent and bearing down on Sam. When the man started to pummel his friend, he was tempted to turn around, go back, and do what he could to protect Sam. It took all his willpower to press on. The best way he could help Sam was to find them some help and get them both out of this mess permanently.

He hustled along hoping to get as much distance as he could between Harry and him. He was under no illusion that if the killer caught up with him, he wouldn't meet the same end that Rick had. Then Sam wouldn't have a chance in hell.

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Ted watched as Harry ran off. He looked down at Sam, still in agony from both Harry's beating and the way his injured knee had been treated. With a sigh, he went to find something to tie Sam up with. He found some rope in the pack that belonged to Sam. "Sit up," he said coming back over.

Even thought Ted hadn't done anything threatening, Sam was still afraid of what refusing him could bring. Right now, he wasn't in any kind of condition to defend himself. He did as he was told, slowly sitting up. As he eyed the rope he said, "You don't have to do that. I can't get anywhere."

"Yeah, but when Harry gets back, if you're not tied up, there'll be hell to pay. It's just not worth it."

Without putting up further argument, Sam sat with his hands behind his back and let Ted tie him up. Gambling that the man wasn't as bright as his partner was, Sam kept his hands and wrists tense while they were being tied.

"You shouldn't have done it," Ted said as he wrapped the rope around Sam's wrists and tied it in place. He didn't wrap it as tight as he could not wanting to cause the man any more pain than he'd already experienced. "I told you, you shouldn't get him mad.

"So what was I supposed to do? Do nothing and let him kill me and Al?" Sam looked back over his shoulder at Ted. "You know that's what he planned to do eventually, don't you. You didn't really think he'd let us go free after all this?"

Ted shrugged and finished tying the knot. "You just shouldn't have done it and gotten him madder."

When Ted was done, Sam let the tenseness out of his hands and wrists. He found there was some slack in the rope. With any luck, he'd be able to work his hands free and, maybe, get away himself. Letting out a small sigh he turned back to stare at the forest where Al had disappeared. It seemed Ted was as intimidated by Harry as Harry had wanted Sam to be. It could be a weakness to be exploited while the two of them were alone.

Once he'd assured that Sam was tied up, Ted pulled the pack that he was propping his leg up with over. "You still need that elevated, right?" he asked, nodding to the knee.

"Yeah," Sam agreed warily. He watched as Ted maneuvered the pack under his leg as carefully as he could. "Thanks."

After he'd finished, Ted gave a small smile. "No problem. I imagine that hurts pretty bad." He noticed the opened sleeping bag that had been knocked aside during the beating. He retrieved that as well and laid it over Sam the best he could. "At least you can be warm."

Sam again thanked the man for his kindness. It didn't seem right that he'd be mixed up with a man like Harry. The two couldn't be more opposite if they tried. "How'd you get hooked up with Harry?" He asked the question partially out of curiosity but also with a thought that he could sway Ted into letting him go now that Harry wasn't around.

"Harry's my brother. He takes care of me. He had a lot of ideas on how we could make a lot of money and knew how to pull off the jobs." Ted looked away for a moment. "He didn't used to be so violent. It wasn't until this job that he actually killed anyone. Once he started, he didn't seem able to stop."

"There was someone else - other than Rick?" Sam asked in clarification.

"Yeah," Ted answered reluctantly. "One of the tellers at the bank and a guard. Well, at least I think the guard's dead. We didn't really hang around to find out." He paused. "Then there was the pilot of that plane we hijacked. He was still alive but hurt when we crashed. Harry said he was putting him out of his misery."

It did a lot to explain why Ted was going along with Harry and why he seemed so easily intimidated by him. Sam knew that, given the right circumstances, he could have had the same kind of relationship with Tom. "You know Idaho has the death penalty, don't you? You could end up being sentenced to death for what your brother's done."

Ted abruptly stood up from where he'd been squatting by Sam as they talked. "They need to catch us first and that ain't gonna happen," he said harshly. "Harry'll make sure it doesn't. You'll see. Once we get out these woods and we call your mother and tell her we have you, we'll have enough money and we can just go to Mexico and hide out down there. Harry'll make sure it happens."

"Ted...." Sam started to say only to be cut off.

"Shut up. Just shut up. Harry's right. I shouldn't trust you. You'll just cause trouble." He stomped away from Sam and ducked into the tent he'd been using. When he came back out, he was carrying a handgun. He sat down across the fire from Sam and watched him.

Sam let out a sigh when Ted came back with the gun. He'd hoped bringing up the potential consequences for Harry's actions would have been enough to tip Ted into helping him. Instead, he'd only managed to anger the man. There'd be no help coming from him. He started to move his hands and wrists where they were tied behind his back hoping he could pull them free. The extra slack caused by tensing his wrists when they were being tied and the fact that Ted hadn't tied the rope as tight as he could have should mean that he'd be able slip his hands out if he worked on it hard enough.

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Al continued his path of moving from point to point, always keeping himself hidden. He found it ironic that the last time he'd been kept captive was Vietnam and the skills he'd learned then were allowing him to make progress even while Harry was stalking him.

Occasionally, he would catch sight of the man. He hoped that his ability to make himself nearly invisible would allow him to get away. He knew for certain that his and Sam's lives depended on it.

As he made his way to the next hiding place, he kept close to the ground. He pushed himself closer to the earth as he heard his hunter moving closer to him.

"You shouldn't have done it, Calavicci," Harry called out in a taunting voice. "You shouldn't have run 'cause now I'm gonna take care of you and when I'm done, I'm gonna go back and take care of your boy too. I'm gonna take my time on him and make sure I enjoy it." He chuckled. "That knee of his makes it real easy. I barely touch it and he's screaming. Imagine what he'll do when I break it."

Al closed his eyes, willing himself not to listen to the man. He knew in his heart that this break was his and Sam's only chance at freedom. As much as the psycho tried to get to him, he had to be strong. He pushed himself even deeper into the undergrowth. He couldn't let Harry find him.

Al heard Harry start to move off. He continued his string of descriptive fantasies of what he was planning to do to Sam. Al's own captors had been equally as cruel. If he felt he had a chance against the man, he would have jumped him and shut him up. Instead, he bided his time trying to ignore the litany of pain Sam would have to endure if he failed. When he felt Harry was far enough away that it gave him a chance, he got up and bolted.

The underbrush that Al was using for cover thinned out enough that Harry was able to see him. Raising his gun, he took aim at the fleeing man and pulled the trigger. He heard the grunt of pain and saw Al collapse to the ground. Before he was able to reach the spot where he'd fallen, he heard the far off sound of voices filtering through the woods. Not wanting to take a chance of being caught and positive that he'd fired a kill shot, Harry turned around and made his way back as quickly as he could to the campsite.

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It was just about an hour since Harry had taken off after Al, or at least that was Sam's best estimate of how much time had gone by. He'd found it hard to judge the passage of time the last couple of days. He'd been working steadily to free his hands from the ropes during that time. Since Ted had sat across from him, he'd had to make sure he didn't give away what he was doing. By now, both of his hands and wrists were rubbed raw from the rope. Finally, he felt his left hand slip free.

Keeping his hands behind his back, he groped around on the ground for anything he could use that would help. Feeling a rock not too far behind him, he grasped it in his hand. If he were going to make a break, it was now or never. "Can I have drink of water?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

Ted had been very vigilant when he'd first sat across from Sam to watch him. At this point, though, he'd grown slightly bored. "Um…yeah. I guess so. You must be thirsty." Ted got up to retrieve the drink.

"You're going to have to hold it for me," Sam pointed out when Ted brought the bottle of water over. He shrugged his shoulders making certain he didn't move his hands from behind his back. "I can't hold it unless you want to untie me."

Ted shook his head. "It would be easier. Still, Harry said to keep you tied up. I'd better do what he says." He tilted the water for Sam, allowing him to take a drink.

When Ted tilted the bottle, Sam pulled back from it just slightly. "You're going to have to hold it closer so I can reach it." This time, Ted bent a little lower bringing the bottle of water within Sam's reach. When he did, Sam swung his left hand that he held the rock in forward against Ted's head as hard as he could. The hit was enough to stun Ted and Sam was able to struggle to his feet and catch him in the jaw with his right fist toppling him to the ground.

He bent down and pulled the gun Ted had tucked in his waistband out. As he straightened up, he heard the sound of a gunshot in the distance. "Al?" he softly said fervently hoping that the shot hadn't found its home in his friend.

Unsure what to do and knowing he couldn't get far with his knee; he decided it would be best for him to stay where he was, at least for the time being. He used the rope he'd been tied up with to secure Ted making sure the knots were as tight as they possibly could be short of hurting the psycho's brother. Once the man was secure, he sat back down on the ground to wait He faced the direction his friend had gone in with the psycho on his heels. The gun that he'd taken from Ted he kept cradled in his lap.

It was a little less than an hour later when Harry finally made it back to the campsite. He saw Ted lying on his side, obviously tied up. "Ah, Ted. Can't you ever get it right?" Harry said with a slight bit of feeling. "As weak as you are, you still get the upper hand," he said to Sam with slight wonder in his voice. He sighed looking over to his brother again. "He may be my brother, but I have to admit, he just doesn't have what it takes. He shook his head. "Probably didn't even tie you up." Looking at his brother, he finished, "He's just too 'good.'"

"I got free," Sam stated flatly, "and he's a better man than you'll ever be." He looked behind Harry expecting Al to come out of the trees at any second. The gun he'd taken from Ted he kept pointed at Harry as he had since he'd walked back into the campsite. "Now you take your gun and you put it on the ground."

"And let you shoot me?" Harry scoffed. "Not a chance. Seems like a stalemate to me."

"I said put it down." Sam ordered as he tightened his grip on the gun he held. "Right now I've got this aimed at you and you haven't pulled yours out. I'd say I still have the upper hand."

"You're not going to do anything with that."

"You wouldn't want to bet." To prove his point, Sam fired off a round just over Harry's left shoulder. That was all the motivation the criminal needed to put down his weapon. It didn't, however, prevent him from continuing to taunt Sam. Sam took that moment to stand up so that he could better keep the weapon trained on the psychopath.

"He's dead, you know," the man in front of Sam taunted. "You didn't think I was going to let him get away, did you? I found him and I killed him," he said with a sneer.

"No," Sam denied shaking his head. "You're lying to me." He readjusted his stance taking a firmer grip on the gun he pointed at the man.

"Believe what you want but he's dead. I shot him right through the head. I could take you there so you can see his blood and brains scattered everywhere," the man cruelly offered. "You'd have to identify him some other way than facially. There's really nothing left."

"No," Sam denied again although with less confidence. He looked at the man in front of him. What did he have to lose by lying to him? Maybe...maybe what he was telling him was the truth. If that were the case... "Then there's no reason for me not to kill you," he said coldly. If this monster in front of him had indeed killed his best friend, he was going to pay for doing it.

The man laughed at the threat. "You don't have it in you. You're a weak coward. That's why he left you behind."

"No. I...I couldn't travel fast enough," Sam denied uncertainly. "My knee..."

Despite the gun being held on him, the man walked closer to Sam. "That's your excuse. You're nothing but a coward and you won't pull that trigger." He stopped with the gun a scant few inches from his chest. "He's dead and it's all your fault."

At the words Harry was saying, Sam could feel his finger tightening on the trigger. A part of him just didn't care. If Al was dead, it didn't matter.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The sheriff moved toward the clearing. It was clear there was a situation in progress between a tall man that he'd been told was one of Rick's clients and the man he knew had killed the teller and the guard at the bank two days before as well as the pilot of the plane they'd hijacked. A helicopter search team had found the wreckage and the dead pilot.

The law officer had been dismayed when the horse carrying Rick's body had reached them on the path. He'd held out hope that the sudden loss of contact the day before didn't mean the worst. He hadn't been sure that the man's client's were still alive until he'd come across one of them who explained he'd gotten away and told them that his friend was in danger. That man had led them to this clearing.

They had found the man who'd escaped his captors only a half hour before, bleeding from a superficial wound to the head. He'd told him his name was Al Calavicci and he needed help for his friend. The sheriff and his search party had immediately followed him. Now, as he approached the clearing he heard the two talking and he was worried that the wrong person would be facing the justice system.

Al was concerned as well. Knowing how traumatized Sam had been and hearing Harry taunt him that he'd been killed; the retired admiral knew he had to act fast. He quickly explained to the sheriff that he wanted a chance to talk Sam out of the gun. When the sheriff started to balk, Al used his military voice to say it was the only way to keep the situation from escalating further and the lawman had acquiesced.

Moving into the clearing, Al kept his voice calm and firm. "Sam. You don't need to shoot him. Put the gun down, Buddy."

Sam's head jerked in Al's direction when he heard his voice and his eyes widened just a little at the sight of the blood on Al's head. Harry also glanced in Al's direction. "Whattsa matter," he continued taunting. "Seeing ghosts? He's coming for you 'cause you let him die."

"Shut up, you nozzle," Al hissed at Harry. Noticing Sam focusing on the wound on his head, Al tried to calm his friend's thoughts. "Don't worry about this, Sam. I'm alive and real. I'm not going to die anytime soon. Now give me the gun."

"No," Sam said in a shaking voice, not really sure what to believe. He'd started to believe what Harry said about killing Al and now he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not. "He said you were dead. He said he shot you in the head."

"He just grazed me, Kid. I'm not dead." Al knew that the sheriff and his party wouldn't allow him too much more time. He had to get Sam to back down and soon. He slowly moved closer to his friend, not wishing to set him off.

Harry didn't heed Al's order and kept up the taunting. "Ghosts and wishful thinking. That's all you got. Weak people like you always go that route." He laughed cruelly. "Go ahead. Shoot me. Bet you can't."

Ignoring Harry, Sam concentrated on Al, or the apparition of him. He still wasn't sure that his friend wasn't dead. "He killed Rick," Sam stated looking for some rationale; some reason to pull the trigger and punish this man for what he'd put them through.

"The sheriff's here, Kid. They need to be the one's to take Harry and Ted down. You said it yourself, remember? At the lake?" Al hoped that reminding Sam of their conversation might pull Sam back to reality.

"No," Sam again denied shaking his head. "He said he killed you. He needs to pay."

"But he didn't kill me, Kid. I'm still here. Come on, Sam. Give me the gun."

"He would have killed you," Sam insisted. Tears had started to run down his face. "He would have killed you and I wouldn't have had the chance to say goodbye again just like...just like..." He wiped impatiently at his face with his free hand. "I don't know what to do"

Hearing the kid talk about not being able to say goodbye, Al realized that there was more in play than just the current situation. Sam was remembering his father and again putting his feelings for Al in that context. Figuring he could use that, he moved even closer. "Yes, you do, Sam. You need to give me the gun and let the law handle this." Al decided that under the circumstances, he needed to play on Sam's mental uncertainty to help him make his decision. "Hand it to me, Son."

"Daddy?" Sam asked in a tremulous voice when he heard the word 'son'. He relaxed his grip and allowed Al to pull the weapon from his hand. As soon as he did, the sheriff and his men who'd been waiting impatiently to the side rushed in for the arrest.

Now that the danger was past, Al didn't want to maintain Sam's confusion. He handed off the gun to a deputy that moved toward them as the law officers made their move. "No Sam. Not Daddy…Al. I'm here. You're safe, Kid, and so I'm I. It's going to be ok."

"Al?" Bewilderment continued to plague the younger man. Reaching out a shaking hand, he gently touched the area on Al's head where the blood was. He pulled back his hand and stared at the red that was now on his fingertips. "You're bleeding."

Al acknowledged that and tried to lessen the impact with a grin. "Yeah, but as they say in the movies, it's just a flesh wound." He was more concerned with Sam and the fact that he didn't appear to be pulling out of his confused state.

Sam looked around and saw the sheriff and his deputies arresting Harry and Ted. They were being read their rights and handcuffed. It didn't seem to make much impact on him. He brought his gaze back to Al. "It needs a bandage." He started to move to where his pack and the medical kit were but only made it a few steps before his left knee gave out on him.

Al moved quickly to catch his friend, allowing the momentum to take them both to the ground in a controlled motion. Once making the softer landing, he shook his head. "It can wait, Kid."

"But you're bleeding." Again, he reached to probe the wound but this time, his hand shook significantly. Noticing it, he pulled his hand back quickly. "I can't stop shaking."

Keeping his arms around his friend, Al told him, "It's probably shock, Sam. Think. You know the symptoms. With what you've been through, I'm not surprised."

Sam leaned into the support Al was offering him. "No more, Al. I can't do it anymore. Don't make me."

Not sure exactly what Sam was referring to, he asked, "What, Sam? What can't you do?"

Sam searched for what it was he was trying to tell Al but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he shook his head slightly repeating "no more."

Al was dismayed. Feeling Sam learning into him in an almost clinging fashion, he was reminded of how Trudy would do something similar when she was upset. Sam Beckett might be the greatest genius seen on the Earth in a long time, perhaps ever, but emotionally when under extreme stress, he wasn't that different from his sister. Al unconsciously started to rock. "No more, Sam. You just rest. I'll take care of everything."

A slight nod was Sam's only answer and, if possible, he leaned even further into Al and the rocking motion. "Tired," he murmured after a short while.

"I know, Sammy." As he held his friend, Al realized that it would probably be a good idea to call Verbena. He knew that this situation had probably returned Sam to where he'd been a few months before after his run in with a different psycho. Then, while still in LA, Sam had spoken a couple of times to Dr. Stockton , a psychiatrist that Dr. Sloan had suggested. Sam had seemed to put much of the trauma in perspective, at least his close brush with death, but now, Al wondered if he'd just pushed it under and now both of those situations were affecting his friend. He decided he'd ask her to get on the next flight to Idaho. He was sure they wouldn't be leaving right away.

The two remained where they were on the ground while more of the sheriff's department showed up. They were in their own private world until an EMS worker who'd just arrived on the scene approached them. "Sir, we need to look him over and take care of that wound on your head," the woman said after tapping Al lightly on the shoulder.

Al looked up not wanting to release the hold he had on Sam but knowing that the EMS worker had a point. The sooner they could get treated, the sooner they would be back to the hotel and the sooner he could get Verbena on a plane. He softly told Sam, "Hey, Kid. Let this nice lady look you over, ok? Then we can go home."

Until now Sam had remained passively in Al's hold but when he heard that Al was going to release him, he grabbed his friend in a tight hold. "No," he said in a panicky sounding voice. He'd found what, to him, was a safe haven and he didn't want to give it up.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam," Al said at the desperation in his friend's movements. "I promise. I'll stay right here."

The EMS worker, Becky, squatted down next to them. "If you can just turn him around a little, I can check him over with moving him too much." She smiled. "It'll be easier if he's calm and I don't think he'll stay calm if we ask him to move too far from you right now."

Once Al had gotten Sam to shift around enough so Becky could check him, she smiled warmly at him. "What's your name?"

Sam glanced briefly up at Al then back at the woman. "Sam. Sam Beckett."

"Nice to meet you, Sam. My name's Becky," she said soothingly. "I just need to check you out real quick and make sure you're ok." Sam gave his permission with a shallow nod and Becky got to work. She quickly took a set of vitals on him then checked the abrasions on his hands and wrists from the ropes. "How'd he hurt his knee?" she asked Al.

"Tripped over a root. It was dark." He looked around to see the man who's orders to keep hiking had led to that injury and noticed that their tormentors were no longer in the area. Rather, he realized there were fewer people around and a medical helicopter was waiting in the clearing. He nodded towards it. "I assume that's for us?"

Becky looked in the direction Al was. "As soon as we get the two of you patched up it will be." Another EMS worker had joined them. "Can you get his knee splinted, Don? I'll get his hands wrapped and take care of Mr...." she trailed off looking over to Al for him to supply the missing information.

"Calavicci, but you can call me Al" the older man supplied. "Don't worry about me. This isn't anything. Just take care of Sam."

"You're probably right that its not life threatening but we need to take care of you too." When it seemed like her patient was likely to argue, Becky played on his concern for Sam. "I'm sure Sam'll be a lot more relieved if you let me take care of that."

Realizing she was right, Al nodded. "Ok, but just the minimum. I want to get Sam out of here as soon as possible."

"Don't worry," Beck assured. "We're going to get you both out of here." While Don got a splint in place to immobilize Sam's knee, Becky cleaned the abrasions on his hands and wrists and wrapped them up. Once that was done, she cleaned the wound on Al's head, taping a bandage in place. She chose to forgo taking Al's vitals or the scrapes and scratches he'd obtained during his run for freedom deciding it was best at this point to get into the chopper and on the way. Once they were in the air, she could take care of Al. She turned to her partner. "Don? With that knee we should probably get a gurney."

"No," Sam quickly answered. "I can walk." He looked to Al repeating his statement waiting for his friend to agree with him.

Al nodded seeing it was important to Sam to walk out of the clearing. "Ok. You can lean on me if you need to." He started to get up.

"Hang on a second." Becky caught hold of Al's arm before he could move any further. "Don can help him get to the chopper. We need to make sure you're not going to topple over either."

"I'm fine," Al said, wanting to prevent any more hold ups in getting Sam the help he needed. "But I need to help him walk out of here. I know it sounds wrong but it's the right thing to do."

"All right. But Don helping him isn't up for debate," Becky said with a slight edge in her voice. "You're not going to be any help to him if you fall over yourself."

"It's ok, Al," Sam said with just the slightest unease in his voice. He looked over to Don. "He can help me."

The group moved to the chopper, Al keeping an eye on Sam. He noticed that his friend moved almost automatically as if still not fully connected with the situation.

They arrived at the hospital in short order and were separated as they were both examined. The superficial scratches and scrapes as well as the wound on Al's head were cleaned and a bandages applied to them. A CT scan had shown no sign of a concussion from the graze and he was soon released.

It took longer for Sam's condition to be assessed and he was sent for an MRI on his knee to see just how bad the damage was. He was still detached from what was going on and the emergency room doctor wanted to admit him overnight for observation. That piece of information reached through to Sam and he argued against it until the doctor agreed to release him as well.

While Sam was having the MRI done on his knee, Al took the time to call Verbena and get her on the next flight to Idaho. Now he just hoped that the kid wouldn't have any other situations to deal with until she arrived.

Once they had all of their release papers and the hospital pharmacy filled the prescriptions Sam had been given, they caught a taxi and went to the hotel that Al had booked right after speaking with Verbena.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Sam felt numb as he followed Al into the hotel room. The day had become a blur for him and he'd lost track of most of it. It was already after 6:00 pm but it seemed like hardly any time had gone by since Al had made his break. It had been early morning then –before the sun had risen.

Most of the time in the hospital he found he couldn't recall exactly. The only time he'd said much of anything to get his point across was when they'd wanted to admit him for observation. He was not going to spend the night in the hospital again. When that happened, it usually turned into more than one night. Thankfully, Al had supported him when he said he wanted to be released.

They'd had something quick to eat while they waited to be examined but it hadn't been much, especially since Sam had been allowed so little food over the last day. "I'm hungry," he murmured softly as he leaned the crutches he'd been given against the wall and sank down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Al took that as a good sign. "Yeah. I imagine you are. I could use something to eat too. Do you want to go out or just call room service?" He figured that giving Sam the choice would set things at least on the road back to normal.

"Don't care," Sam said shrugging one shoulder. He pushed back to sit on the bed so he could stretch his leg out. The orthopedic that had checked his knee had diagnosed a partial tear of the ACL, much as he'd expected. The doctor had felt that conservative treatment was the best choice at the moment so currently Sam's knee was supported in a brace. He'd be seeing his own doctor when he got back to New Mexico and a decision would be made then if he'd need surgery. He sighed as he leaned back against the pillows. "Can we just stay here?"

"Yeah. Of course we can, Sam." Al quickly agreed. He was becoming more and more concerned by how withdrawn Sam seemed to be and was eager to do anything that would help set his friend back on some kind of even level. He went over to the binder that held the room service menu. "Anything specific you want? They have everything from sandwiches to entrees."

"Can I have a cheeseburger? I really want one." Sam shifted several times on the bed trying to find a comfortable position.

"Yeah," Al agreed. He came over to the bed to try to help Sam settle comfortably. He took a pillow off of the other bed and slipped it under Sam's left leg to provide the elevation the doctor had recommended. "You take yours with onions and no tomatoes, right? Fries too?"

"Uh huh," Sam agreed as he slouched down against the pillows. "Can I take a shower afterwards?" He rubbed his hand across his face feeling the growth of beard there. "I need to shave."

"Of course, Kid. We both need showers and a shave, that's for sure." He paused. "In fact, the food will take a little bit of time to get here after I order it. Why don't you take yours first? You'll feel better."

"Ok," Sam agreed. He started to swing his legs back over the side of the bed but stopped. "I need help getting in and out of the shower. I can't get the brace wet." As an afterthought, he added, "and I have no clothes to put on."

Al realized that was the case. Since the site they'd camped at was still a crime scene, they hadn't been allowed to take any of their belongings with them. "Yeah. I didn't think of that." He took a breath. "Listen; let me call in the order. I noticed we passed a K-Mart about a block from here. I can hike over and get us something to wear until we can get something else. Shorts, t-shirts, underwear, socks. I should be back before the food's here."

Sam started to agree but was dismayed when he remembered he didn't have his wallet. "I had my wallet in my pack so I don't have it." He punched the mattress. "Darn it, I can't do anything right."

"It's ok, Kid. I have mine. I can get stuff for both of us and you can pay me back later, ok?" Al was concerned that Sam's frustration seemed to be a little on the high side for such a minor issue.

"No," Sam protested. "You can't do that. He'll be right if you do."

"What?" Al asked, confused with what Sam was saying.

"You can't do that," Sam said again. "If you do, you'll be taking care of me, just like he said. I can take care of myself." The thought of giving credence to any of the words that had been thrown at him by Harry was abhorrent to Sam and, if it meant having to leave on the same clothes he'd had on since Rick had been shot, that's exactly what he'd do. He could accept that he needed Al's assistance to get in and out of the shower because of his knee but he was not going to depend on him for every little thing.

"Sam, you're talking crazy. If the shoe were on the other foot, you buying clothes for me wouldn't be taking care of me. It would be fronting me money 'cause I didn't have mine with me. Totally different concept." Al knew that Sam hated his hovering and he'd really been trying to pull back from that but this was getting into the realm of ludicrous.

"No, it's not the same thing," Sam protested. "You don't need anyone to take care of you. You take care of yourself. I don't want him to be right." He wasn't able to hear just how crazy what he was saying sounded. All he knew was that he couldn't allow Harry's words to become truth so that meant he couldn't let Al take care of him. The hard part, though, was that right now that's exactly what he wanted - for Al, or anyone, to take care of everything and make it all right again.

Al blinked, not sure how to proceed. This wasn't just Sam being stubborn. Something else was motivating it and making him dig his heels in. He understood a little of what had pushed him there but it still, didn't make sense. The kid at this point needed some assistance. He let out a frustrated breath. "Ok then. What do you suggest? Both of us need clothes. Both of us need showers. Both of us need food. And both of us need sleep. You really think I'll be able to do that for myself knowing that your needs aren't being met as well?"

"I don't know," Sam said in frustration. He was quiet for a few seconds before throwing his hands in the air. "I don't know what to do. You do it. You decide." He lay down, rolling over so his back was to Al. Maybe there was something to what Harry had said. He wasn't being independent right now. He was just being difficult. If Al were smart, he'd go out that door to get clean clothes and never come back.

Al moved over to the bed, and sat down. He unconsciously started rubbing Sam's back. "Listen, Kid. It's going to be ok. Right now both of us are tired and still stressed by what we experienced." He noted that the muscles in Sam's back were as tense as they could get without snapping. "Food. Let me call that order in and get us some food then we'll figure the rest out."

"Ok," Sam agreed softly. When Al got up to call in their order, he made a small, discontented noise but didn't say anything else. The rubbing motion on his back had felt good. His whole body felt like a guitar string that had been pulled too tight and just that small rubbing had felt soothing. He could take the pain medication that he'd been given for his knee but right now, he didn't feel like falling into the sleep it would bring. As exhausted as he was, there was no arguing that that's what would happen. He wanted to stay awake at least long enough to eat and get cleaned up.

As Al hung up the phone, he looked over to Sam. "So. You think you'll be ok for the few minutes it'll take to get us something to wear that feels good and doesn't smell?

Sam started to roll over to get off the bed. "I can come with you?" He reached out to grab the crutches he'd propped against the wall by the bed.

"Who's going to be here when the food arrives?" Al asked. He knew the doctor at the ER had told Sam to stay off his knee as much as possible. Even with crutches, it wasn't a good idea for Sam to overdo it.

"But...you won't know what size to get me." He was grasping at straws but the simple truth was, Sam didn't want to let Al out of his sight. He was afraid if he did, it might turn out that his friend really was dead and this was all some kind of hallucination brought on by stress. It was hard enough when Al hadn't been able to go with him for the MRI but at least he'd still been in the same building.

Al looked at Sam strangely. "I've always gotten it right for Christmas and birthdays, Kid." Seeing a little fear in Sam's eyes, Al was reminded of when he'd had to leave Sam on the mountain after the plane crash. The kid had been afraid to have him leave. He remembered the ring had worked then. Maybe it would work again. "If I leave my Academy ring with you, Sam, would that help?"

"I'm not a child," Sam answered swiftly. As much as having the ring in his possession was a physical manifestation of the fact that Al would be back, he was ashamed to need that kind of talisman or that his friend thought he did. He stretched out on the bed again, snagging the television remote from the small table between the two beds. "Just go. I'll wait here."

Al nodded. "Ok. I'll be back in about 30 minutes, Sam." He opened the door and left. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he started moving quickly. The sooner he could get back the better.

As soon as the door closed behind Al, Sam was off the bed and making his limping way over to it. "Al," he called out pulling the door open. "What do I do when the food comes?"

As soon as he heard his friend calling his name, Al stopped short then hurried back to where Sam was standing just inside the open door. Sam's concern didn't lie in the awaited for food. It was a combination of not wanting to be alone and not wanting Al to leave.

Al made a quick decision. He couldn't leave Sam. "Give me a minute, Kid." He went over to the phone and called the restaurant back. Finding they hadn't left with the take out, he asked them to hold the order for about 45 minutes. Once he was off the phone, he turned to Sam. "Ok. We'll get a taxi to take us to the K-Mart. With that leg, though, unless they have a push cart, you need to wait at the front of the store and not try to move around on it too much. That work for you?"

"Yeah, ok." Sam looked down at the floor not wanting to meet his friend's eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I don't want to be alone. I just feel like something's going to happen if I am."

Al put his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don't worry about it, Kid. With what we've just gone through, it's no wonder you're gun shy. Let's just get those clothes so both of us can start to get back to normal."

Al called a taxi, which they took to the K-Mart. Since there wasn't a pushcart, Al asked Sam to sit on the bench that was at the front of the store until he was finished. He quickly gathered the things they needed to cover a few days and then went through the line. Once finished they went back to the hotel. Since the food hadn't arrived yet, Al suggested that Sam take his shower first, handing him a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and underwear to take into the small bath.

"You need to come with me and help me," Sam reminded Al when he started to hand him the clothes. "I can't leave the brace on or it'll get wet but my knee won't support me to get in and out."

"Ok," Al agreed. He went with Sam into the room. He followed Sam's directions as to how to help him. When he offered to stay in the bathroom until he was done, Sam refused. Al didn't leave until Sam promised not to try to get out of the shower without his help.

Sam couldn't believe how good it felt to stand under the warm water. For the first few minutes, he was in the shower, he didn't think about anything but getting clean. Once he'd washed the grime from his body, he just stood under the warm spray letting it cascade over his body. He turned around so it could hit the back of his neck and shoulders hoping it would alleviate some of the stiffness he felt there.

As he stood under the cascading water, his mind started wandering back over the last couple of days. The more he thought about it, the quicker he started to breathe. The past 40 hours since Harry and Ted had shown up at their campsite by the lake had a surreal feeling to it and he started to wonder just how much of it was real and how much of it was just his imagination and wishful thinking. What if he'd just been imagining that Al was here with him?

Turning off the water, he called out for Al, panic in voice. Not getting an instantaneous response, he pulled back the shower curtain and tried to get out of the shower without any help so he could go find Al and make sure he was ok.

The door to the bath opened. Al's eyes were wide. "What the hell you doing, Sam? I told you not to get out of the shower on your own!" he barked rushing over to help his friend.

Sam grabbed hold of Al's upper arm squeezing as hard as he could both for the aid and support he needed to maneuver out of the shower as well as to ensure that the man in front of him was real. "You're not dead," he breathed out.

The concern on Al's face was palpable. Slowly, he answered his friend, watching him closely. "No, Sam. I'm not dead. Why would you think I was?"

"Because **he** said you were and I'm so confused right now." Sam leaned heavily on Al who grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around him.

After assuring that Sam was covered, Al held him by his upper arms and looked directly into his eyes. "You can't let that psycho get into your head like this, Sam. Both of us survived. Everything is going to be ok." As he said it, he wished that Verbena were already here. He knew she'd be arriving in the morning and hoped she'd be able to help Sam deal with this situation.

"I know, Al. Maybe if I weren't so tired." Sam looked over to his right where he could see his reflection in the mirror over the sink. "I still need to shave," he said in a quick change of subject.

"You can do that later, Kid. The food's here."

Sam considered insisting that he shave now but he honestly was too tired to really care one way or the other. Tired, and, as his stomach was reminding him, hungry. "Ok," he agreed. "I just need to dry off and get dressed." He looked at the items of clothing Al had given him. "How come there's no pajamas?"

"I wasn't sure you wanted them this early," Al answered. "If you want pajamas, I'll get those instead." He started towards the door.

"No." Sam grabbed Al's arm to stop him before he could leave the bathroom. "I can put them on out there." He lowered himself to sit on the closed toilet and grabbed the knee brace that was on the bathroom counter. "Just help me with this first. I don't think I'll be able to get it tight enough.

"Ok, Sam," Al agreed, turning back to help Sam with the brace. He had to admit, with the swelling, the leg didn't look too good. He hoped Sam wouldn't need surgery this time. He put it on the way Sam told him, pulling the closure as tight as the kid wanted. "That feel ok?

"No," Sam replied honestly answering how his knee felt in general as opposed to how the brace felt on it. "Right now it's throbbing." As if reading Al's thoughts from earlier, he continued, "I don't care what Dr. Stone says, I am not having surgery again. I'm not."

"Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it, Sam?" Al finished with the brace and got up. "If it's throbbing, maybe you need to take one of your pain meds."

"You know they make me sleepy," Sam softly said. He finished drying off as he spoke.

"I know, Kid." Al sighed. "Ok, how about we eat dinner and then you take the meds."

"Maybe." Sam wasn't ready to commit to anything that was going to bring him to sleep. He knew sleep was not going to be restful and wanted to put it off as long as he could.

"You know you'll feel better if you take them, Kid," Al said as he left the bathroom and went into the other room.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, but they make me feel so…I don't know…not me."

Al gave Sam a smile. "You'll always be you, Sam. Drugs or not. Now...let's eat." Al opened the bag with the food. "Smells pretty good."

"Yeah, it does." Sam lowered himself to sit on one of the chairs by the table keeping his left leg out straight because of the brace. He accepted the takeout box that Al handed him opening it up to reveal a cheeseburger and fries. "Did they put any ketchup in there?"

"Yeah. They put a lot of packets in the bag." Al grabbed a few and pushed them over to Sam.

"Thanks." Sam ripped open the packets, squeezing them into the top of the box. Picking up the burger, he took a large bit out of it. "It's really good," he said once he'd chewed the bite. He followed it up with some of the fries, eating as quickly as he could. He hadn't realized quite how hungry he was until he started eating.

Al didn't say anything, instead biting into his own meal. He was glad that Sam was able to eat his fill now. For a moment, anger washed over him again as he thought of how Harry had treated Sam.

"Are you angry with me?" Sam asked when he saw the look that quickly passed over Al's face. "Did I do something?" He didn't think he had - well, he didn't think he'd done anything since they got back to the hotel.

"Not you, Sam." Al realized that Sam was reacting to the anger radiating from him. "It's just that thinking about how those guys treated you and what they did to Rick...well, it just makes me angry to think about it."

"Oh." Sam wanted to forget about what had happened, not remember it - at least for a little while. "I thought you were still angry because I tried to get out of the shower on my own." He put down the rest of the cheeseburger. There were only a few bites left of it. He grabbed one of the paper napkins and wiped his hands and mouth with it. "That was good," he said again, "but I'm full now."

"You sure?" Al asked. Having watched Sam chowing down and then stopping he wondered if the reminder had been unwise.

"I'm sure." Sam offered a small smile. "I guess I ate too fast. My stomach's a little sore now." He slid the box toward the center of the table. "Maybe I'll eat the rest of it later."

"Ok," Al agreed. He saw the dark circles starting to form under Sam's eyes. "Maybe now that you've eaten, you should take those pain meds."

"No, not yet," Sam countered. "I don't want to take them yet. I'll just...I'll just lie down and put some ice on my knee instead. There's an ice machine, isn't there?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. I'll take the ice bucket and get you some." He got up and went out the door.

While Al went out to get the ice, Sam moved over to one of the beds and stretched out on it. He bunched the pillows behind his back. He was just finishing getting comfortable when Al came back carrying a full ice bucket.

"Here you go, Kid." He retrieved the towel asked for to wrap the ice in then slid the pillow under Sam's leg again.

As Sam took care of his knee, he checked the cable channels. "Hey, they have _Prince of Tides_ showing. You want to watch?"

"Uhmm, yeah, I guess so," Sam answered slightly distracted. "You're sleeping in this room, too, right?"

Al nodded. "Yeah, Kid. I'll be here." He went over to the TV and set things up for Sam to watch. Once he was finished, he told his friend, "I'm going to get my shower now. I'll just be a few minutes."

"Ok. Do you mind grabbing the bottle of painkillers?" Sam had hoped he could just tough out the pain in his knee with the ice but it didn't seem to be helping and he was tired of the throbbing. Maybe, because of having the drug in his system, there wouldn't be any dreams that would disturb his sleep.

"Sure, Kid." Al got the meds and a glass of water.

"Thanks." Sam took one of the pills with the water, handing the glass back to Al. He settled back against the pillows. "You don't have to turn that on until after you're done."

"Ok." Al went into the bath to finally get the dirt and grime off his body. It didn't take long before he was coming out towel drying his hair, clean clothes replacing the ones that he'd shed.

When Al first went into the bathroom, Sam had once again started thinking about what had happened and what still awaited them. He and Al were supposed make their statements to the police tomorrow. He quickly put those thoughts from his mind. If he kept dwelling on them, it would do no good. By the time Al came out of the bathroom, the narcotic effect of the painkiller was combining with his lack of sleep over the last several days and he was already starting to drift toward sleep.

Al sighed, glad to see that Sam was finally relaxing enough and letting sleep take him. He went over and pulled the covers over him. "Sleep's what you need, Kid. Everything will be better in the morning."

"Mmm...no...don't wanna sleep," Sam complained when he felt the covers pulled over his body. "Gonna watch the movie."

We can watch it later, Sam. Right now you need rest," Al said reasonably.

"No. Now." Sam batted down the covers irritably. He wasn't ready to sleep - didn't know if he wanted to. He knew that if he were cocooned in the covers that would only further pull him toward sleep.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Al sighed once more. "Ok, Sam. I'll put on the movie." He knew that the kid was tired but pushing him often resulted in the opposite effect. He lay down on his bed and used the remote to find the channel. The movie had started and they found themselves at the fifteen minute mark of the show.

"Please don't be angry, Al. I'm sorry." Rolling over, Sam didn't bother to watch the TV. "I'll go to sleep if you want me to."

Al turned off the TV and went over to Sam's bed and sat down beside him, rubbing his back. "I'm not angry with you, Sam. I'm concerned, that's all."

"Yes you are," Sam countered. "You should be. I just keep causing you more trouble. I should have stayed home and not come then nothing would have happened."

"Stop it, Sam. Don't do this. You don't cause me trouble." He paused. "This shouldn't have happened. We should have just had a nice fishing trip, that's all. If everything had just gone as planned, we'd be finishing up a week of fun, not dealing with this...this..." He grasped for a word that would describe how he felt and just went instead with an easier one, "...situation."

"I liked fishing." The gentle rubbing of his back was pulling Sam closer and closer to sleep and he was starting to welcome it. Without moving much, he reached his arm down trying to snag the covers to pull over his body. "Maybe we can do it again someday."

"Yeah. I'd like that," Al agreed. He could feel the tension leaving Sam's body. He helped pull the covers up, covering his friend.

"Night, Al," Sam murmured as the blankets covered his body. They were the final piece of the puzzle to send him tumbling into slumber.

"Night, Sam. Sleep well." Al continued rubbing Sam's back until he heard the gentle breathing that told him Sam was deeply and fully asleep.

He got up and went over to the other bed. He turned down the light but didn't turn it off entirely. As he lay down and snuggled into his own covers, he found he wasn't able to sleep. Instead, he watched his friend's chest rise rhythmically. His mouth went into an unconscious grin as he realized how often it had been like this. "God, Sam," he said quietly to himself, not wanting the possibility of waking the sleeping man. "If I'd just pushed harder at the lake, Rick would still be alive and you wouldn't be having that bastard's words flitting around in your head. I'm sorry, Kid." He knew Sam couldn't hear him but he had to say it. It didn't help, though. Al lay looking at Sam sleep for quite some time until he finally fell into a restless sleep.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"_He's dead, you know," the man in front of Sam taunted. "You didn't think I was going to let him get away, did you? I found him and I killed him," he said with a sneer._

"_No," Sam denied shaking his head. "You're lying to me." He readjusted his stance taking a firmer grip on the gun he pointed at the man._

"_Believe what you want but he's dead. I shot him right between the eyes. I could take you there so you can see his blood and brains scattered everywhere," the man cruelly offered._

"_No," Sam denied again although with less confidence. He looked at the man in front of him. What did he have to lose by lying to him? Maybe...maybe what he was telling him was the truth. If that were the case... "Then there's no reason for me not to kill you," he said coldly. If this monster in front of him had indeed killed his best friend, he was going to pay for doing it._

_The man laughed at the threat. "You don't have it in you. You're a weak coward. That's why he left you behind."_

"_No. I...I couldn't travel fast enough," Sam denied uncertainly. "My knee..."_

_Despite the gun being held on him, the man walked closer to Sam. "That's your excuse. You're nothing but a coward and you won't pull that trigger." He stopped with the gun a scant few inches from his chest. "He's dead and it's all your fault."_

"_No!" Sam screamed as his finger tightened on the trigger. He heard the sound of the gun firing as his vision turned to red.._

The quiet of the night was broken when Sam started to toss his head wildly moaning and calling out for Al.

Al, barely asleep, popped his head up immediately. "Ah...Sammy," he said. He got up and padded over to the other bed. Sitting down, he shook Sam. "It's ok, Buddy. I'm here. Everything's ok. You're just dreaming."

Still under the influence of the painkiller he'd taken earlier, Sam didn't wake up easily. He tried to pull away from the hand shaking him still moaning. "No! Al?"

"Yeah. I'm here, Sam. You're just dreaming. Wake up, Kid. You'll see."

Despite the calm, reassuring words, Sam still didn't wake up. He kept tossing his head restlessly on the pillow. Al was getting worried. "Sam. You need to wake up." Al shook him harder.

Suddenly Sam's eyes flew open, absolute fear and hatred screaming from them. "NO!" he blinked a few times, before looking over to the older man sitting beside him, worry obvious on face staring at him. "I'm sorry, Al. I'm sorry he killed you," he said in despair.

Al had been sure that once Sam saw him, the dream would stop. Now he froze as he listened to Sam's words. "I'm not dead, Kid. We survived. We both survived," he finally said in a quiet but firm voice. The last thing he needed to do was get the kid upset further.

At Al's words, Sam tentatively touched his face. "You're not dead," he half-asked, half-stated. "He said you were dead?"

Feeling Sam's gentle fingers on his face, Al nodded reassuringly. "No. I've very much alive. Harry was a liar. You need to stop listening to him." All Al wanted to do was to take away Sam's fear, but he wasn't sure how to do that.

"I wanna go home," Sam said after a pause. "I don't like this place anymore."

"We're going to go home, Sam. Just as soon as we can. We can't leave until we talk to the police, remember?"

"No," Sam pushed up to sit. "I don't want to. I have to remember if I do. I don't want to remember. Don't make me, Al. Don't make me," Sam begged. "I just want it to go away."

Al watched Sam sit up and start to pull himself into a defensive stance. "We have to, Sam. For Rick. You don't want these bastards to possibly get off with some slimy lawyer's help, do you?"

"No," Sam said firmly, "I don't want to do it." His eyes sparked momentarily in defiance before he seemed to collapse in on himself. "I'll do what you tell me." The spark of defiance was gone replaced by resignation.

Al was taken by surprise by this sudden reversal. It was as if Sam was fighting himself internally. He glanced at the clock on the night table. It showed 4:30 a.m. He knew Verbena would arrive in a few hours. He took a breath and put his hand on Sam's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "We don't have to do anything right now, Sam. Maybe you'd like to try to go back to sleep?"

"Do you want me to go to sleep?" It was easier, Sam decided, just to cede control to Al. If he did, he couldn't make any mistakes or do anything wrong. He wouldn't do anything that could potentially anger his friend and drive him away.

"Would you like to, Kid?" Al knew that Sam generally didn't appreciate any of his hovering.

Sam didn't know what the right answer was - what answer Al wanted to hear. He looked at his friend helplessly, his mouth opening and closing a few times but no words came out. "I don't know?" he finally whispered. "I don't know what you want me to do."

Al blinked a few times. The words brought back memories of Trudy and her clinginess to him. Sam, though, usually had a completely different way of dealing with things, often asserting a stubborn independence even when it wasn't in his best interest. "I want you to be ok."

The vagueness of Al's answer only served to confuse Sam further. "What am I supposed to do? Tell me."

Al was at a loss. He saw a lost soul in Sam's eyes and it just about killed him. He felt helpless to do anything. "Ah, Kid," he said sadly. He decided that if Sam was going to follow his lead, then maybe sleep wasn't a bad idea. At least until Verbena arrived. "I think you should go back to sleep."

"Ok," Sam agreed meekly. He lay back down pulling the blankets up under his chin. "Can you....I mean will you...." His voice trailed off and with a small shake of his head, turned over on his side curling into as small a ball as he could get.

"I'll stay with you, Sam. I'll stay with you forever and a day." It's what he used to say to Trudy. It never failed to calm her.

"That's what Mama used to say to me when I was little." Sam knew he should be embarrassed to need the security of his friend nearby. It was just another outward sign of his weakness but right now, he just felt relief.

Al picked up on Sam's use of the term 'Mama' but didn't say anything about it. His friend seldom referred to his mother as 'Mama", and when he did, it was usually in times of high stress. The fact that he was referring to her that way instead of the usual 'mom' spoke volumes to Al about Sam's current emotional state. "Thelma's a good mother," he said. He unconsciously started to rub Sam's back again.

"Can I have the sweatshirt?" Sam asked after a moment.

"Sure," Al quickly answered, figuring Sam was cold and wanted a sweatshirt for warmth. "I bought you a new one that'll fit you better than mine."

"No," Sam quickly disagreed. "I want yours."

Al started to say that the sweatshirt he'd loaned Sam was too small and dirty and that the new one would fit and feel better but stopped. This was about more than a sweatshirt to keep Sam warm. He was looking for a security blanket. Why he chose the sweatshirt to be it, he wasn't exactly sure but if it helped him to relax, he didn't really see a problem with that. "Ok. I'll get it for you, Kid."

He got the sweatshirt from the pile of laundry and brought it to the bed. After Sam had put it on and lay back down, he began rubbing his back again. "Just try to sleep, Sam."

Sam didn't speak anymore. He nestled his head deeper into the pillow and closed his eyes. The continuing presence of Al by his side gave him a sense of security making it easier for him to fall asleep.

Once more Al felt the tension draining from Sam's body as he headed back into sleep. This time when Sam finally fell into slumber, Al found it impossible to do so himself. He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, watching the room grow lighter as the sun made its way into the sky.

It was a little after dawn when noises came from Sam again. This time it wasn't the terrified calls of earlier but small whimpering sounds as he pulled himself in tighter and tighter.

Al again pulled himself from his bed. He didn't try to pull Sam from sleep this time. He just rubbed the man's back, telling him not to worry and that everything would be ok. He hoped the words would seep into his mind. He wasn't sure this was what he should do, but at the moment, it just felt right.

Sam heard the soothing words and felt the hand rubbing his back gently. The masculine voice was familiar but in his sleep, he was muddled as to who exactly it was. "Daddy?" he questioned. It wouldn't be the first time his father had sat by his bedside soothing him from the monsters that haunted his sleep.

Al heard him call for his father again. He realized that all of the work Verbena and Sam had been doing was probably lost, at least for now. Without saying who, Al just soothed again. "Go to sleep, Sammy. Nothing's going to hurt you."

"'M sorry," Sam sighed. "I'll be good."

Al's heart was heavy. "Nothing to be sorry for, Kid. Goodness is your middle name."

"Nuh uh," Sam corrected as his body relaxed more. "John."

With a slight laugh, Al agreed. "Yeah. John. Samuel John Beckett."

As Sam fell back into sleep, his breathing evened out. This time Al waited longer before moving away. He decided just to make a pot of coffee with the room appliance. He was on his second cup when he heard a knock on the door. Having given the desk clerk the instructions to give Dr. Verbena Beeks their room number, he hoped it was her. He went to answer the door. He was right. The statuesque doctor was standing in the doorway when he opened it.

"Al?" Sam sleepily called out. The knocking on the door had woken him up.

Al waved Bena in, his smile greeting her as he responded to Sam. "Yeah, Kid? I'm still here."

"Hi, Al," Verbena greeted coming in the room. "Hi, Sam," he added when she saw Sam pushing to sit up in the bed.

"Bena. I'm glad you're here," said Al, relief present in his voice. He nodded to the left. "I booked the room next to us for your stay. I hope you don't mind."

Not at all," Verbena agreed.

Sam looked accusingly at Al having taken in what he and Verbena had said. "You said we could go home."

"I said we could go home after we take care of things, Sam. It's a legal thing. We're witnesses. If we leave, they could haul us back and put us in jail. You don't want that, do you?"

"No," Sam said fearfully. "I'll do whatever they want. I don't want to be where he is."

Verbena looked from Sam to Al. There was a higher level of fear coming from Sam than she would have expected and she was curious to see how Al was dealing with that. It would guide her to best help both men.

Al looked over to Verbena, his frustration at what he was seeing of Sam's psyche clear on his face. "It won't happen, Kid. We'll get what we need to do done, and then we'll get you back to New Mexico."

"When? I don't want to wait anymore."

"We have to let the wheels of justice turn at their own speed, Kid."

"I'm sure it will just be another day or two," Verbena smoothly interjected. She could see Al's frustration on his face and there was no doubt Sam probably saw it as well. She wasn't sure that Sam wouldn't interpret that frustration as being directed at him.

Al was about to question that when he saw the warning on Verbena's face. "Um. Yeah, Sam. A day or so is all." He smiled.

"Ok," Sam agreed with a small nod. "I won't complain anymore, Al."

Things seemed to be a little worse off than what Al had told her when they'd spoken by phone last night. "Al, maybe you can help me bring my luggage into the other room," Verbena suggested. She wanted to get Al away from Sam for a short while so he could better tell her what had happened.

"Um. Sure." He turned to Sam. "I'll be right back, Sam. Just in the next room, ok?"

Sam wasn't pleased but he nodded his agreement.

Seeing Sam's unease, Verbena went over to the door that adjoined the two rooms and pulled it open. "When we get in my room, we'll open the other door, ok, Sam. Then if you need either of us, you can just call out."

"Yeah. We'll be right there, Sam." Al hoped his friend would accept that.

Sam didn't say anything, just nodded his silent agreement again.

Verbena gestured for Al to precede her out the door and followed behind him pulling the door closed behind her. "I don't think you told me everything last night, Al. What happened?"

"Harry's what happened," Al said with a growl.

"Harry?" Verbena questioned with a raised eyebrow. "Is it safe to assume that's the 'he' Sam was talking about?" She took the keycard Al held out to her and unlocked the door. She held it open as Al came in with her suitcase.

Al nodded. "Yeah. The psycho kept on Sam about being weak and needing my help. Hell, he screwed up his knee and Harry was about to blow his brains out. Had the gun aimed at his head and everything. I had to do something." He said the last somewhat apologetically as if somehow he was to blame for what was happening to Sam.

"And just what was that something?" Knowing Al's penchant for convincing people of things, Verbena didn't think it was as simple as pulling the gun away.

"I told him that Sam was a rich millionaire and I was his body guard. I told him that I was sure his mother would pay anything to get him back alive. Harry had been giving Sam a hard time from the moment he murdered Rick and Sam started to go ballistic. It got worse after I told him Sam was rich although he did keep him alive so he could get a hold of his money."

"And how did Sam take this?" Verbena probed.

Al looked away for a moment, knowing it had upset Sam to bring his mother into the mix. "Some parts he was ok with, some not so much." He let out a breath. "Harry latched onto that story like a leach. He berated Sam mercilessly calling him weak and an egghead scientist not much use for anything."

Realizing that despite the promise they'd made to Sam, the door between the rooms was still closed, Verbena opened it looking in at Sam. "We're right here if you need us," she reminded him. When she got a nod from him she turned back from Al stepping away from the door and keeping her voice pitched low so it wouldn't carry. "You said he'd been taunting Sam before that. When did it really start to get to Sam? Did you notice?"

"Well, I got him calmed down after Rick was killed and Sam seemed to be acting kinda meek to keep off Harry's bad side. You never knew when that psycho would explode. Then, after Sam fell and screwed up his knee, it's like I said, Harry was about to kill him. He had the gun aimed at his head and the trigger cocked. Then I stepped in with that story. Sometime after that, I found out that Sam wasn't acting. The guy had gotten into his head."

"Ok, that might be some place to start." Verbena took a breath and let it out. "Do you have his discharge papers from the hospital?"

Al nodded. "They're in the other room."

"Do you mind if I see them? I'd like to know what diagnosis was made."

"Of course. You're his Doctor. You have every right to see them."

"Well," Verbena corrected, "that's really up to Sam but I would like to examine him, make sure physically he's ok and it would help if I knew what the hospital was saying."

"Ok, but I don't think he'd have a problem with you seeing the discharge papers." He paused. "I know that Sam holds you in high regard now. He's told me that if Weitzman was trying to destroy him, he sure made a mistake bringing you to the project."

Verbena smiled when she heard Al reassuring her how Sam felt about her. "I value Sam's trust and I don't want to do anything that might violate it." She glanced in the direction of the open door. "From what you've told me, I think he's been violated enough these last days without adding on to it. Can you get the papers, but ask him first."

"Ok." Al walked into the room. He noticed Sam's eyes following him as he walked over to the desk. He retrieved the papers and then went over to the bed where Sam was still sitting. "Sam? Would it be ok for me to show Verbena the discharge papers from the hospital? She wants to see what the doctors there said."

"Why'd you call her?" Sam asked curiously disregarding the question that he'd been asked. "You think I'm going crazy don't you?"

Al dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. "No but I think the events we've experienced have been traumatic. With the other stuff that happened in May, I figured that having her here couldn't hurt." He shrugged. "Besides, I don't want Weitzman to try to use this situation against you. Having the PQL Chief Medical Officer giving you a clean bill of health will close off that route for him."

"He thinks I'm crazy," Sam said in resignation before taking a deep breath and trying to pull himself together. "So, are you going to talk to her or did she just come here because of me?"

Al licked his lips. The way Sam phrased the question gave him an out. "I'll be talking to her too, Sam." Sam hadn't asked what they'd be talking about after all.

"Ok." Sam reached to take the papers out of Al's hands and looked briefly at them before handing them back. "She can see them."

"Ok." He gave Sam a smile. "I'll be right back." He got up and started towards the open door between the two rooms.

"Is that them?" Verbena asked when Al came back into the room, papers in hand.

"Yeah. They did an MRI. Said his ACL was messed up just like Sam thought." He pursed his lips. "God, I hope he doesn't have to have surgery again."

Verbena accepted the papers from Al and carefully read them. "Has he been taking the Demerol they gave him for pain?"

"He keeps trying to stay away from it. He took some last night and it made it really hard to pull him out of the nightmares."

"But he's taken none since then?" she asked in clarification.

"I don't think so." Al said honestly.

"How about the Carisoprodol? Has he taken any of that?"

"No. I wasn't sure if he could have the two of them together."

"Well, there's not much in these." She handed the papers back to Al and pulled her medical bag out of her luggage. "I'm going to see if he'll let me examine him. We need to make sure he's doing well physically just as much as we need to help him mentally and emotionally." She went into the room Sam was in with Al following close behind. "I'd like to examine you if that's ok, Sam?"

Sam looked questioningly at Al then nodded slightly. "Yeah. Ok."

"Why don't you wait in the other room," Verbena suggested looking to where Al was standing.

Al looked back and forth between the two of them. "Yeah. Ok." Trying to figure out what would make sense right now, he asked Verbena, "You don't mind if I use your shower, do you? I'd like to get cleaned up."

Verbena nodded. "Sure. We shouldn't be too long. I'll be back in when I'm finished so be sure to change in the bath," she said with a grin.

Al smiled. "Ok, Doc. Sounds good." He went over and pulled out some of the fresh clothes he'd bought the night before. "I'll be right next door if you need me for anything," he promised Sam. He didn't move to leave the room until Sam gave him a small answering nod.

Once he was gone, Verbena turned to Sam. "Sam? I think you know the drill." She kept her voice light and professional but friendly.

"Yeah, I know."

"Can you take your shirt off so it'll be a little easier?"

Sam agreed and pulled off the sweatshirt and pajama top, holding both in his lap. He sat quietly while Verbena first checked his pulse and then his blood pressure. He noticed that her eyebrows rose slightly as she took the reading on his blood pressure. "What's wrong?" His voice shook slightly.

She knew to be honest with him. In the time she'd known Sam she'd found that he was a good judge of BS. Al was the only one that could consistently get away with telling Sam a white lie and he'd call Al on them if he saw through them. "It's elevated. Under the circumstances, understandable but it's still concerning."

"I feel kind of jumpy," Sam admitted. "It doesn't feel so great."

Verbena had noticed that he took two shirts off and wondered about that. "Have you been especially cold, Sam?" It didn't feel that cold but she wondered if this might have a medical basis. Delayed shock wasn't unknown.

"A little I guess." Sam grabbed onto the sweatshirt holding it close. "It makes me feel better." He hung his head down looking at his lap. "Al said I could keep it."

Verbena watched as Sam seemed to cradle the sweatshirt almost as if he felt guilty doing so. "It's nice to have something from a friend," she said neutrally. As she listened to his lungs and heart she casually commented, "The two of you have been through a lot this week."

"I guess." Sam didn't take the opening he was given to elaborate. "The beginning was good." A small smile graced his features for a brief moment. "I caught a fish."

"Really!" she said, happy to see a glimmer of joy on the man's face. "Al keeps telling me that fly fishing is akin to a religious experience."

"Yeah!" Sam agreed with a small measure of excitement. "There's a picture. Rick took it for us." At the reminder of their now deceased guide, Sam quickly sobered. "I don't have my camera anymore, though. They wouldn't let us take our stuff. They said it was evidence or something."

Verbena noted the mercurial change in Sam's demeanor. "I hope you'll get the picture back." The muscles in Sam's back had tightened more. "Let me look at your eyes."

"Why?" Sam questioned tiring of the exam. "I didn't hit my head. There's nothing wrong with me neurologically."

Verbena smiled at the doctor coming out in his words. "Because I want to gauge how your lack of sleep is affecting you. It always shows in your eyes."

"I don't want to do this anymore." Sam grabbed the pajama top and put it back on, buttoning it with jerky motions. He pulled the sweatshirt on over it.

The PQL physician's eyebrows rose. "Sam? I'm almost finished."

"I don't care. No more," Sam stated adamantly. "I don't want to be poked and prodded anymore."

Verbena pulled back. "I know. It's not very fun, is it?" She paused. "All right, doctor. All your vitals are elevated. Your body has all the signs of deep stress. As I said before, that's understandable but it's still not healthy, as you know." She considered her next words carefully. "I think that even without seeing your eyes, I know what they would tell me. You're exhausted. I'd like to give you something to help you get some healing sleep."

"The dreams come when I sleep," Sam said softly. "I don't want them anymore."

The dreams that Al mentioned. No, he'd said nightmares. Verbena could understand why Sam wouldn't want to experience them again. "I can give you something that will help you sleep without the dreams, Sam."

Sam was quiet thinking about what Verbena had said then slowly nodded his head. "Ok but can Al come back afterwards?"

"Yes. I'll let Al know as soon as he's out of his shower." She opened her bag and pulled out a hypodermic and a vial. As she filled it with the correct amount she told him, "I'm giving you a dose of diazepam that will help you sleep. It'll likely work fairly quickly."

"No dreams?" Sam questioned. "I just want to sleep. Sleep for a long time and forget all about it."

"Well, most patients report a dreamless sleep when given this. You'll probably sleep for about six hours maybe a little more."

"That sound's great," Sam agreed.

"Ok, then." She bit her lip slightly. "Right now though, I need access to your upper thigh."

Sam pushed the covers away and slid his pajama bottom down so that Verbena could access his hip. He figured she could just push his boxers up to get them out of the way instead of having to pull them down as well.

Verbena quickly injected Sam. "There you go." She gathered her things into her bag. Once she had packed up, she went to plump his pillow and straighten his covers. With a smile she said, "Unless I can do anything else to make you comfortable, I'll send Al back in."

"Can I have another blanket, please?"

She nodded, going to the closet and pulling the extra one down. "Here you are. A nice plush one." She spread it over him. "Anything else?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "Where's Al?" He could already feel the sedative he'd been giving starting to work as it got harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

"I'll send him in." With another small smile she offered, "Sleep well, Sam."

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While Verbena was in examining Sam, Al used the bathroom in her room to shower. He was just emerging from it when she came through the door between the two rooms. "Did you talk to him? How's he doing?" he asked anxiously.

Verbena didn't let him get beyond those questions before she held up a hand to stop him from asking any more. "We really didn't talk, Al. That's not what he needs right now. He needs to get some good solid rest. He's exhausted." She looked over the man in front of her. "You don't look like you're doing much better yourself."

Al waved off any concern for his physical state. "I'm fine. I'm just worried about Sam. I don't know how he's going to get any rest. Every time he tried last night, nightmares woke him up."

"I know that," Verbena agreed. "He told me about having them. I talked him into letting me give him a sedative so he could rest. He was asking for you, though." She smiled gently at Al when he seemed to perk up when she said Sam had asked for him. "Why don't you go in there and sit with him. That sedative's pretty strong and it's going to start working soon. I'm going to contact the police department and let them know that my medical opinion is that Sam's not ready to talk with them today. That needs to be put off until at least tomorrow."

"They're probably not going to like that," Al pointed out. "We've already put them off a day already."

"They may not like it but it's the way it's going to have to be. The human body can only take so much stress and right now, Sam's had about all he can handle. He needs time to rest and regroup before anymore happens. Now go in there and sit with him like I know you want to."

Al didn't have to be told twice. Going around Verbena, he slipped into the other room.

The lights were off and the drapes were pulled over the window. There was only a dim light in the room leaking in through the door adjoining the rooms as well as around the drapes. He could just make out Sam huddled in the middle of his bed. He looked as if he was cocooned in the blankets and Verbena had draped an extra one over him.

Approaching the bed, Al rested his hand on the area of Sam's shoulder. "Sammy," he said softly. If the younger man had gone to sleep, he didn't want to wake him up.

As soon as he heard his name, Sam's head came up off the pillow and he blinked rapidly in the dim light. "Al. You're not dead."

"No, I'm not dead," Al reassured as he sat on the edge of the bed. He'd had to reassure the younger man of that fact too many times as far as he was concerned. "I'm not dead," he repeated. "I'm right here." He kept his hand resting on Sam's shoulder and rubbed it gently. "Close your eyes and sleep," he entreated softly.

Sam didn't say anything else. He hunched deeper into the blankets and shut his eyes. After a few minutes, Al could feel the tenseness start to leave his body and a minute later he was asleep.

When he was sure Sam was safely in the confines of a drug-induced sleep, Al carefully got up from the edge of the bed. He didn't go far, sitting on the other bed that he had been using. He knew the likelihood of Sam waking up at least for a few hours was slight but he wanted to be close by all the same.

A half hour later Verbena looked in the door to check on the two men and smiled. It didn't come as a surprise to her when she saw Al stretched out on his bed as deeply asleep as the younger man was. Grabbing an extra blanket from her room, she crept quietly into the other room and spread it over him.

She looked down on the sleeping older man. She'd been contemplating giving him a shot of diazepam as well, but it looked like Sam's sleeping was the best medicine for him as well. She said quietly, "Sleep well, Admiral. I'm sure that you're just as exhausted as he is." She then turned and left, pulling the door between the rooms closed.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It was late afternoon before either man stirred. Verbena wasn't surprised that Sam slept so long, but she hadn't expected Al to sleep as long as well. She knew he too must have needed the rest. She considered some of the conversations they'd had over the summer and realized he'd been internalizing a great deal of the stress. It only made sense that it would catch up with him.

She had periodically checked on them after calling the police. Al was right. They weren't happy with the delay but when she said that anything Dr. Beckett said could be questioned due to the heavy sedative she'd given him, they backed down. She'd promised that tomorrow things would be better but suggested that they might want to have the interviewer come to the hotel rather that put Sam through the discomfort of walking on his injured leg. Again, the police balked but eventually gave into her quiet logic.

Al stretched, allowing the kinks in his shoulders to relax out. With a yawn he asked, "What time is it anyways?"

Hearing the movement in the other room, Verbena looked in the doorway just as Al wondered what time it was. "It's a little after 4:00."

Al nodded, looking over to the woman that provided the answer to his question. "Ok." His face scrunched slightly. "You know, I'm starving."

"Well, you haven't eaten all day," Verbena pointed out. She picked up the binder off the table that had the room service menu and brought it over to Al. "Sam should be waking up soon. You might want to pick out something he might like to eat since he's hasn't eaten anything either."

"Yeah," Al agreed. He looked at the menu. "We had burgers last night. Maybe he'd like the chicken salad croissant."

"You might want to think about something a little lighter for him," she suggested. "He hasn't had anything in his stomach all day. There's no use in tempting fate."

Al nodded. "Yeah. His stomach isn't exactly made of iron." He looked again. "How about a fruit and cheese plate?"

"Maybe." Verbena took the menu and looked it over as well. "How about that and some soup so he has a choice?"

Al got up, walking around the room and stretching more. He looked over to where Sam was sleeping blissfully unaware of the two of them talking in the room. "I'd hate for the soup to get cold. Maybe we should wake him up?"

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't suggest it but he does need to get some food inside him and liquids. Why don't you try to wake him up and I'll call this in. Just don't expect a lot from him right now."

"I usually don't when there's any kind of a sedative involved." He went over to his sleeping friend, looking so peaceful again. He sighed. Verbena was right. The kid needed food. He shook him and softly called, "Sam? Hey, you gonna sleep the entire day away, Buddy?" Sam moved slightly from the shaking but didn't give any appearance of waking up.

When Sam didn't respond, Al looked at Verbena. "Should I keep trying?"

Verbena smiled slightly at Sam's lack of response and Al's question. "You didn't think he was going wake up on the first try, did you? Keep at it and he'll wake up eventually but, like I said, don't expect too much of him."

Al gave a short nod and went back to waking Sam. This time he shook him a little harder. "Come on, Sam. You need to get up. If you're like me when you wake up you'll be hungry enough to eat a horse."

This time Al got a little bit more of a response as Sam batted at the hand shaking him. "Stop it. Go 'way." He tried to roll over away from Al still mumbling. "Gonna give Farkel some sugar."

Al laughed. "Farkel? He's not in the room, Kid. You're dreaming again."

Sam struggled to open his eyes and squinted up blearily at Al. "Where'm I?" he asked groggily.

"In the hotel room, Kid. 'Bena here says we both need to eat."

"'Bena?" Sam slowly sat up looking around the room and blinking slowly. "Where's Farkel, Al? Is he still lost?"

Al looked at Sam and suddenly felt bad about kidding the man. Sam's face reflected his concern for the animal. "I don't know, Sam. I don't think so. I heard the Sheriff talking about finding Rick's body. They'd have to have found Farkel as well."

"He has no one to take care of him now. What's going to happen to him?" Sam looked at Al hoping he'd be able to give him a satisfactory answer.

"I'm sure he's being taken care of Sam." Al hadn't really thought of the animal until now.

"What if he's not? Who's gonna give him treats?" Sam let out a troubled sigh. "It's not his fault. He's a good animal."

Sam had bonded with the horse the short time they'd been together and Al could see how much the animal's welfare now meant to his friend. "I'll tell you what, Sam. We can look into where Farkel is before we leave Idaho after we take care of what we need to do. Would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah." Sam pushed the covers down and started to get out of bed. "I need to use the bathroom." He started to stand, reaching for the crutches but swayed then dropped back down heavily to the bed. "Wow! Everything's kinda goin' in circles."

Verbena moved closer to Sam. She'd called in the order and now was concerned for her patient. "The diazepam's probably still making you a little dizzy, Sam. You might want Al to help you get where you're going."

"Ok," Sam rubbed his hand across his face trying to banish some of the lingering effects from the diazepam. "Can you help me?" he asked looking up at Al.

"Sure, Sam." Al helped his friend up, giving him the ballast he needed. "Let's just move slowly, ok? I don't want you to take a tumble."

"Don't think I can go fast." Sam leaned heavily on Al as they made their slow way across the room. He thought it was a good thing that the room wasn't any bigger or he wouldn't have been able to make it.

Once they got to the proper location, Al looked to Sam. "You think you can do this on your own or you want me to stay?"'

"I don't need help." Sam was very adamant in his statement but had to catch hold of the sink in order to keep his balance. "I'll be fine," he assured Al when he saw the skeptical look on his face.

"Ok, Kid, but I'm waiting outside."

Sam waved Al off and leaned over to swing the door shut. He did what he needed to do in the bathroom and was going to try to get back to the main room on his own. He didn't get very far as the lingering effects of the drug he'd been given and his sore knee combined to throw off his balance. He made a quick grab for the towel rack before he could fall and called out for Al to assist him.

Al moved quickly at Sam's call. Seeing him hanging on for dear life to the towel rack, he frowned. "Geez, Sam, you could have hurt yourself."

"I just lost my balance for a second." Once again, Sam leaned on Al and the two men slowly left the bathroom. "I want to go back to sleep," Sam said eyeing his bed as the emerged from the bathroom. "I'm still so sleepy."

"You need to eat first, Kid. Neither of us have had anything since last night. 'Bena ordered some food for us. It'll be here any minute."

"Do I have to?" Sam tried to pull away from Al to go back to his bed but wasn't able to break away from the hold Al had on him. "I'm tired, not hungry." As an afterthought he added, "And I'm thirsty. Really thirsty."

Al shook his head and lead Sam to the table. "Just sit down...and I'll get you some water." He turned to get a glass for Sam and then paused, "Unless you want something else."

"No, water's ok," Sam agreed quietly. He didn't want to eat but if it's what Al told him he had to do, it's what he'd do. Otherwise, Al might think he just wasn't worth the trouble if he didn't do as he was told. Seeing Verbena sitting across from him, he smiled tentatively at her. "Hi 'Bena."

Verbena had been quietly watching the interactions between the two men. Something was definitely off. She wasn't sure, but it seemed to her that Sam was being especially compliant to any request that Al made. Normally, his personality would exert at least some dissension to Al's papa bear antics. She didn't say anything about her feelings yet, though, wanting to monitor the situation a while longer before making that a firm observation. Instead she just smiled. "Hi Sam. I hope you like soup and fruit."

"I'm sure I will, thank you." Sam rubbed his hand across his face again and was reminded that he still hadn't shaved. "Al, can I shave this time? My face is getting really itchy."

Al shook his head. "You almost fell in the bathroom just now, Sam. I'd be afraid to see what you would do with a razor. Maybe after you eat you'll be a little steadier."

"Now," Sam insisted with some defiance. "I told you, I just lost my balance for a second." He started to get up from the table but stopped when he realized the crutches weren't close by since Al had helped him to and from the bathroom. "I want to do it now. I don't want to wait."

"What difference will 20 minutes or so make?" Al asked. As if to punctuate his statement, there was a knock at the door. "See, the food's here already. You don't want to let your soup get cold."

It was a small thing really. As Al said, twenty minutes wouldn't make a difference except that it would mean he couldn't make his own decisions and that he needed Al to tell him what to do and when to do it. If that were the case, it meant that he really was weak and couldn't take care of himself. "I don't want to wait. I want to do it now," he insisted.

Al bit at the inside of his lip. Sam needed to eat. On the other hand, he was showing signs of coming back to himself. He looked to Verbena to help him make the right decision.

The woman looked at Al's face, silently and subtlety pleading for her intervention. "The diazepam does make you a little unstable, Sam. The fact you haven't eaten could also play a role in your being a little off balance. Maybe you should give it a few minutes like Al suggests."

"No! Now!" Sam insisted. "With a sweep of his arm, he knocked the binder with the room service menu to the floor with a clatter. He caught his breath and looked from where it had landed to Al waiting for a reaction he couldn't guess at.

Al had started to move towards the door to answer it as Verbena had made her pitch. Hearing Sam apparently going into meltdown, he stopped and blinked rapidly, seeing the binder fly off the table. "Do you hear yourself, Kid? Why is it so all fired important to shave this very minute?" He couldn't stop his frustration from coming out.

The sound of knocking came from the door again. Verbena, seeing Al and Sam engaging, went to open it, continuing to tune one ear to the developing scene.

"Because I want to." Sam struggled to make Al understand why he had to do this now. "Because I need to take care of myself, not you. I need to do it now. Please?"

Al stopped and swallowed. There was something about the way Sam pleaded and the look on his face. The lost, vulnerable begging for something to be normal once again. When he answered, his voice was a little more gravelly than usual. "Ok, Sam. If it means that much to you, go ahead and shave." He was still worried this wasn't the wisest move but at the same time, preventing Sam from doing it would likely be worse for his current mental state. He just hoped the kid wouldn't hurt himself.

"Thank you." Again, Sam started to get up. This time he asked Al to hand him the crutches so he could make it into the bathroom on his own. "I won't be long," he said once he was on his feet. He didn't wait to hear if there was a response before slowly moving to the bathroom.

Verbena had taken care of the food delivery at the door, signing the receipt that would charge the food to the room and putting on a tip. She suggested that she could push the cart into the room not wanting the delivery man to be witness to Sam's current situation. As she closed the door she turned to watch Sam moving deliberately towards the bathroom.

Her eyes then gauged the older man, so obviously in turmoil that his decisions were the right ones. As Sam slipped into the bath, Verbena said quietly, "He's asserting his independence again."

Al nodded. "Yeah. That's why I stopped pushing. You think I did the right thing?"

Verbena nodded. "I'm just concerned that the diazepam may make it difficult for him to keep his balance. Although it's at the end of its effectiveness, it still is affecting him."

Al's eyes were sad. "Yeah. I thought of that too, but..." He sighed. "I just couldn't tell him no."

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As Sam went into the bathroom, he shut the door behind him closing himself off from Al and Verbena. He was relieved that Al had understood – or at least he thought he understood – that this was something he had to make a decision about on his own.

He leaned the crutches against the wall in the small bathroom. Despite Al's and Verbena's concern about his balance, it really wasn't that bad as long as he stayed close to the counter that could provide him support.

Al had left the supplies necessary to shave on the counter and Sam started the task. He was almost done and feeling satisfaction that Al's concerns had been unfounded. A couple of more swipes with the razor and he'd be finished.

As he made the final pass, the razor nicked his jaw. He felt the slight sting and watched in the mirror as a drop of blood beaded where the cut was. As he watched it, he knew then that everyone had been right. He shouldn't have forced to have his own way. He wasn't fit to make a decision on his own. "Al," he cried out. "I need you."

Sam's request for him seemed dire based on the tone and Al moved to the bathroom quickly. He opened the door, seeing the mirror image of Sam first. He was mostly shaved but with a thin line of shaving cream still on his face. What concerned Al the most, though, was the red color that was leaking onto the white shaving aid. It didn't look bad, though. Just a small nick. He reached over and pulled one of the wash cloths off the rack, moving to the sink to wet it. "Ah, Sam...you're bleeding."

Sam couldn't pull his eyes from that small spot of red. "I'm sorry, Al. I should have listened." His eyes met his friend's briefly in the mirror. He was so afraid of the disappointment he was sure he'd see in them. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Al carefully turned Sam around to face him. He took the wet washcloth and started to wipe the shaving cream off his face and looked closely at the cut just in case his original assessment had been wrong. As he thought, it wasn't a bad one. A septic pencil would take care of it. Unfortunately, he hadn't bought one the night before. For now, Sam would have to use the old standby...a little piece of tissue. He took one of the sheets from the holder in the front of the counter. "It's ok, Sam." He pulled a piece of the tissue off. "Now stand still while I fix you up.

"Are you angry with me because I didn't listen to you?" Sam hung his head down ashamed that once again Al had to play nursemaid for him.

"No," Al said as he put the small piece on the cut, seeing the blood drop soak into the thin paper product. "There." Sam's chin hung down afterwards. Al let out a breath. "Don't, Sam. Don't you do this."

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled again. Yet again, he was letting his friend down. He could hear it in Al's voice - in the way he let out his breath. Harry was right. He was nothing but a weak egghead who needed others to look out for him constantly.

A tap from outside the room alerted them that Verbena had moved to the bathroom as well. She didn't give any indication if she'd heard any of the conversation. "Everything ok?" she asked in concern.

"Yeah. It's fine, Al answered."

"Ok. Just remember, dinner's here."

Al pulled Sam's arm. "Yeah. Dinner." He still wasn't happy with the way that Sam was continuing to allow the small cut to generate guilt and sought to try to reassure him and nullify the guilt. "It's ok, Sam. Looks like you did a mostly good job."

Sam looked up at Al briefly with sad, haunted eyes. He nodded slowly then let Al help him from the bathroom back into the main room and over to the table. When the bowl of soup was put in front of him, he dutifully began to spoon it into his mouth.

Al sat down beside Sam. The younger man was so quiet, focusing instead on his food. Figuring that for now, maybe he should just go with the flow, he didn't say anything either as he picked up his sandwich. He took a bite and chewed it quietly.

The silence began to get to Sam. Neither Al nor Verbena were saying anything. Finally, he put the spoon down on the table. "I said I was sorry. Why are you mad at me?" he demanded of Al.

"I'm not mad at you, Sam," Al denied startled by the question. It was true that he was worried for his friend and wanted to know how to help him but wasn't angry with him – couldn't be angry with him under the circumstances. He felt like he was on eggshells right now, not sure how Sam would react to any of his actions.

"Then why won't you talk to me? That's what you do when you're mad – you don't talk. I said I was sorry." Sam was starting to feel just a little desperate to make Al understand he fully intended to do as he was told from that moment on and not cause any more problems. "I'll do what you say from now on, I promise. Just, please, don't be mad at me."

Verbena watched the two men, torn in her desire to help Sam. As a friend, she just wanted to give him a hug to let him know that things would be all right. However, as a therapist, she knew that keeping a certain distance was critical to helping him professionally. Adding to her hesitation was the clear knowledge that the man was still ultimately her boss. She continued to observe Sam's and Al's interactions.

Al felt punched. "I told you, I'm not mad at you, Sam. You just seemed focused on eating so I didn't say anything. Didn't mean anything by it."

"I'm just trying to do what you want. I'm just trying to be good." He looked over to Verbena who was sitting mostly forgotten across from him. "I'm sorry I threw the book."

Al licked at his lips slightly. Reaching over, he rested his hand on Sam's shoulder squeezing lightly. "You don't need to do that, Sam. You just need to be yourself."

"I don't think I know how anymore," Sam confessed in a shaky voice. "I did like you said and I didn't let him know I was angry after...after... I even pretended that I was what he said I was but it didn't work. He still got angry. I don't know who to be anymore. It's never right."

Verbena, hearing Sam's words, felt a chill run up her spine. He was reaching a dissociative state.

Al looked into Sam's eyes. "Don't say that, Kid. You just need to be Samuel John Beckett. No more, no less."

"I don't want to be here anymore," Sam said stressing the word 'I'. "I want to go home. I don't want to be scared anymore." He dropped his head down looking at his hands in his lap. "I just want to be your friend."

"Ah, Sammy." Al got up from the chair and knelt by Sam, rubbing his back. "You are my friend. My best friend and nothing..." He repeated the word stronger, "...nothing will ever change that, capice?" He tilted Sam's chin up to be sure the younger man was seeing him. "I promise, I'll get you back to New Mexico as quickly as I can, Sam. After we take care of what we need to take care of. That's a promise you can bank on."

Sam looked at Al, carefully studying him. He'd never been anything but truthful with him. There had been times Al had hidden things when he thought he was protecting him but he'd never outright lied. Sam didn't think he would start now. "Ok. Can I lie down now?"

Al looked at the meager amount of food Sam had eaten. Most of the soup was gone but the fruit and cheese plate had barely been touched. He looked to Verbena who gave him a short nod. "Ok, Sam. You can go back to sleep."

"Thank you. Can you help me?" Sam didn't finish asking the question before Al was assisting him from the chair and back to his bed. As his friend lowered him down to it, he impulsively grabbed him in a hug. "Thank you for being my friend, Al."

"It goes both ways, Kid." Al's heart was hurting seeing his best buddy in this situation. "Everything's going to be ok," he assured Sam while returning the hug. He knew he continued to say the same thing, as if by saying it alone, it would happen. He gently patted Sam on the back then helped him to get comfortable in the bed. After he'd put the pillow back under Sam's bad leg, he pulled the covers up over him. "You need anything else now?"

"No." Sam scrunched down into the pillow. When Al stood up from the bed he let out a small sigh at the loss of closeness but, otherwise, said nothing.

Not wishing to disturb Sam, Al and Verbena moved into the other room. They'd be able to keep a watchful eye on him from there and if Sam needed them – particularly Al – they'd be close by.

It was just a little more than 15 minutes later when Sam called out for Al. "Yeah, Kid, what is it?" Al asked immediately from the doorway between the two rooms.

"I can't sleep," Sam complained as he sat up against the pillows. "I tried, but I can't."

"You need to give yourself a little more time to get tired again," Verbena suggested from where she stood behind and just to the side of Al. When Sam had called out, she'd rushed over to see what was wrong as well. "You just woke up a little while ago."

Al came into the room Sam was in and went over to the closet where he'd put the bags he'd brought back from Kmart. Reaching into one, he drew out a magazine and brought it over to Sam offering it to him. "How about if you do some crosswords for a while. Maybe that'll help you to get sleepy again."

Sam reached out to accept the crossword magazine Al held out to him. He was touched that his friend had remembered how he'd been enjoying doing them and had bought him a new book. "Thanks, Al," he said sincerely as he put the book down on bed next to him. "Can we do some work instead, though? I…um…I think I'd like that."

"Of course we can," Al quickly agreed. "If that's what you want to do." He pulled one of the room chairs over by Sam's bed and dropped down to it. "So, what do you want to work on?"

Verbena remained where she was for another few minutes silently observing the two men as they discussed the uses of a particle accelerator. She wasn't following most of what they were talking about but she saw how excited the two of them were. Al briefly got up long enough to get a pad of paper so that Sam could better illustrate what he was talking about. When he came back, he sat by his friend on the edge of the bed instead of in the chair.

Verbena noticed how often during the discussion Al patted Sam on the back or punched his shoulder gently to illustrate what he thought of Sam's ideas. She noticed that for the first time since she'd arrived neither of the two men were thinking about what had happened over the last several days. They were simply interacting with each other as they always had. She made a mental note to bring up that point with Al.

She slipped into the room long enough to get the plate of fruit and cheese from where it still was on the table and brought it over, placing it in easy reach of Sam. Without acknowledging her, he unconsciously reached to the plate, plucking up a piece of cheese and eating it. Al's eyes came up long enough to silently thank her for moving the food over to Sam. She offered him an encouraging smile then slipped out of the room while the two men continued their planning.

She didn't think Al realized what he was doing. He probably wouldn't unless she pointed it out. Instead of trying to anticipate what Sam needed right now, he was just going on instinct and that instinct seemed to be having a positive effect on the younger man. It was the first real glimmer of hope she'd seen all day.

Sam and Al worked on project related things until Sam's eyes grew weary. When Al suggested it was time to go back to sleep, the younger man had just yawned and agreed. Al pulled up the covers and turned down the lights, moving back to the adjoining room where he found Verbena, lying back against pillows and watching TV.

She looked up at him when he walked into the room and Al just nodded his head towards Sam's room. "He's asleep again."

"That's good. He needs rest."

Al nodded. "Yeah. He hasn't had much the last few days." Al paused. "You think he's up to tomorrow?"

Verbena threw her legs over the side of the bed sitting up and took a deep breath. "Honestly, no, I don't think he is but we really don't have much choice."

Al nodded. "Yeah." He paused. "You're coming with us to the station, right?"

"Didn't I tell you? Detective Hale and his team will be coming here to take your statement and Sam's. I thought it would be better for Sam if he stayed here instead of going down to the police station."

"They went for that?" Al asked incredulous.

"I told them that he didn't need the trauma of the police station. As far as I'm concerned his room is the most neutral and safe place for him. He needs that right now."

"Yeah, safe." Suddenly a yawn split his face. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm so tired."

Verbena laughed softly. "You don't know why? I don't know Al. Maybe it's because you haven't gotten much sleep either and you've been under a lot of stress as well. You can't tell me you're not still worrying about Sam just as much now as you were since your fishing trip turned into another situation.

"Of course I'm worried. That bastard got inside Sam's head with words and how he treated him and now the kid can't seem to even trust himself to make a decision." The words came out in a semi-growl.

"Al," Verbena cautioned. "I know it's hard but you need to get a hold of that anger. Sam doesn't understand that it's not directed at him. He thinks you're angry with him."

"Why would he think that? How could I…how could anyone be angry with him right now? He was the victim."

"I know that, Al, and I know you're not angry with him. I'm talking about how Sam's perceiving things."

"Perceiving?" Al questioned and then took a breath as her words sunk in. "I guess that makes sense. Ok, then, I'll try." He rubbed his face wearily, unable to really process what she was saying. "I think I'd better turn in but if you need anything, let me know."

"Have a good night, Al. Sleep well."

"You too, 'Bena. You too." Another yawn almost cut off the last.

As Al came back in the room and stopped by Sam's bed to check on him, the younger man started to stir. "Al?"

Al moved closer to his friend. "Yeah, Sam?" he said softly.

Sam didn't open his eyes as he talked, his words slurring slightly. "'S hot. Put on the air."

Al took stock of the room knowing the air conditioning was already on. "You're just wearing too much, Sam." He started to take away the extra blanket. "You might want to take off the sweatshirt."

"Ok." Sam sat up and pulled off the sweatshirt. When Al tried to take it from him he held on to it tightly. "No. Mine." He lay back down putting the sweatshirt on the bed next to him and was asleep again in moments.

Al looked and blinked. In almost a whisper he voiced, "You gotta snap out of it, Kid. You can't let him do this to you." With that he turned and crawled into his own bed. It took awhile before he finally fell into a restless sleep himself.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Morning dawned gray with the threat of rain. Sam, Al, and Verbena were all up early since the police detectives were expected to be there by 9:30. Although Sam's leg had been hurting during the night and Al had brought him a Demerol, the night had passed relatively peacefully.

After showering and dressing, Al nearly bullied his friend into eating a bowl of cereal. "Are you going to be here, Al?" Sam asked for what seemed the twelfth time as they waited for the detectives to arrive. The more time that went by, the more nervous he got.

"Let's just see what they want first, Sam." Al had answered the same way each time the younger man had asked. Since he'd been the subject and instigator of several investigations, the military man knew the drill. He knew that most times witnesses were separated so that the authorities could get an independent statement from each.

Sam also was no stranger to making a statement for the police. It was just a few months before that he'd had to do the same when they were in Los Angeles. That time Al, hadn't been allowed to stay in the room with him since he'd also been a witness. Sam knew the drill as well and knew it wasn't likely it would be any different this time although he sincerely hoped it would be.

Al watched as Sam seemed to consider his words with distaste. He decided to turn his friend's mind away from the concept. "Hey, you want to watch some TV until they get here?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sam responded as he dropped heavily to one of the chairs. He'd been doing his best to pace around the room despite being hampered by his injured knee.

Putting on a morning talk show, Al sat next to Sam to watch. They'd only had it on for about fifteen minutes when a knock was heard from the door. Verbena got up to answer it.

At the door were three men and a woman dressed in business attire. One of the men, brown-haired with signs of emerging silver spoke. He glanced at his pad as he did. "Is this where we'd find Dr. Samuel J. Beckett and Admiral Albert Calavicci?

Verbena nodded. "Yes it is. Detective Hale?" she asked anticipating who the man was. At his agreement, she stopped them from coming any further into the room. "I'd like to see some ID, if you don't mind."

All four people pulled out their badges and as she checked them she said quietly, "Both of these men have been through hell and back from what I understand. As their physician, I want to make it clear I will stop the proceedings if I see irreparable harm being caused to either of them." At their confused faces, she clarified. "This questioning may dredge up feelings that may be difficult to experience."

"We just want to get their statements, Ma'am. We understand fully the trial they've been through and have no intention of adding to it," Detective Hale assured. "That said, this is a necessary step."

She nodded and moved aside to let them in. She knew they needed to question them but she'd be damned if they were allowed to hurt her employers in their pursuit of information.

Al had been watching the events at the door out of one eye. Now that the group was making their way in, he stood up. "Good morning. I'm Al Calavicci." He nodded to his friend. "This is Sam Beckett."

"Admiral," Detective Hale greeted holding out his hand. "I'm Detective Jon Hale and these are my colleagues Dan Armstrong, Michael Johnston and Beth Murray."

Al took the man's hand. "Good to meet you. I'd rather it be under better circumstances but it is what it is. So, how do you want to do this?" He was eager to get the questioning done so that he and Sam could be on their way. He looked over at Detective Murray and fleetingly hoped that she'd be one of the detectives to question him.

"It would be best to interview the two of you separately. Are you and Dr. Beckett both staying in this room?"

Al shook his head. "Yes. But I'm sure Dr. Beeks would be willing to let us use her room as well. It's adjoining.

"Ok, then why don't you go in there and Detectives Armstrong and Johnston will take your statement. Detective Murray and I will take Dr. Beckett's in here."

"Why can't we be together," Sam asked when Detective Hale said they'd be split up.

Al looked kindly at Sam. "Remember back in LA? They split us up then, Sam. To be sure we weren't building off of each other's witness report."

"I don't want to do this alone, Al," Sam said as a small frisson of fear went through him. What if I don't remember everything?"

"You'll be fine, Kid. Just tell them what you do remember." Al knew that with Sam's memory, it shouldn't be a problem. The only thing that would hamper it was how much he unconsciously – or even consciously – tried to forget.

"But...I don't want to remember," Sam said softly confirming that Al suspected his friend may indeed bury his memories of the events whether he meant to or not. "I wish I could forget it all."

Al nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know and you can do that after you talk to the police. They're only doing what's needed Sam. You know that."

"Gentlemen," Det. Hale interrupted. "If we could get on with this?" He turned to where Verbena was still standing by the door. "Ma'am, would you mind waiting outside until we're done here?"

Verbena looked towards Sam. "Is there any way that I can stay in the room. I'd be willing to stay out of the way." When it didn't seem likely that Hale was going to grant her request, she further explained, "Dr. Beckett is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It wouldn't be in his best interest not to have someone he's familiar with present."

Hale looked between Verbena and Sam. His first thought was to deny her request and again ask her to wait outside but on closer scrutiny of Sam, he saw that the man was barely holding himself together. It could be that having the physician present might make it easier to get the man's statement. He nodded shallowly at Verbena. "Ok, but I need you to stay out of the way and be quiet."

Agreeing, Verbena moved to the other side of the room and perched on the edge of a bed. Al patted Sam one more time on the back. "You're gonna do great, Sam, and then it'll be all over and we can go home."

A small, tentative smile was all Sam could muster up in response to Al's assurances.

"C'mon, let's get this done," Al said impatiently to the two detectives who'd be taking his statement then walked into the other room. He had to admit some disappointment that Detective Murray wasn't going to be in the room with him but, in a way, he also felt some relief that she'd be with Sam. Maybe she wouldn't be as hard on him.

When the door between the two rooms was closed, Sam felt almost as if someone had pulled the floor out from under him and he had to fight the urge to run to it and open it so that he could at least see and hear Al even if he couldn't be in the same room with him right now while they did this. It was only sheer force of will that kept him in place.

He watched as Hale pulled out a small tape recorder and set it up on the table. "Ok, Dr. Beckett, let's get started," the man said to him.

Sam took a deep breath. He could get through this just like Al told him he could. All he had to do was tell the two detectives what had happened. It was as easy as that or so he hoped.

The first few questions did, indeed, prove to be easy. It wasn't until he got to the point of Rick's death that it became much harder to answer the questions he was being asked. He did his best but he felt like the detectives must have thought he was holding something back or making it up as he went along. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I'm doing the best I can."

"I'm sure you are, Dr. Beckett," Hale responded. "Let's just keep going."

Sam had the distinct impression that his best really wasn't good enough. Yet again, he wasn't good enough and was unable to deliver what others wanted of him.

The whole process took about forty minutes but, to Sam, it seemed like it took forty days. Finally the two detectives were done asking him questions. Detective Hale turned off the tape recorder and informed Sam that as soon as his statement had been transcribed, he'd have to come to the station to sign a copy of it and they'd be done with him.

"You did very well, Sam," Verbena assured him coming over and rubbing his back. Sam had stuck as much to the facts as he could without letting any of the emotion of the events come to the fore. She'd seen what a struggle that was for him to do. She had a better idea now of what he and Al had gone through but still felt like she was missing a great deal.

Shortly after Sam was finished with his statement, there was a knock on the door between the two rooms then it opened slightly and Detective Armstrong poked his head through. After telling Hale that they were done with Al and finding out Sam was finished as well, he opened the door fully and came back into the room followed by Detective Johnston and Al.

Al gave Sam a full appraisal, realizing at a glance that the kid had been through the wringer. Wanting to give him some encouragement he said, "See, Sam? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No, not bad at all," Hale muttered. "As much fun as a visit to the dentist."

Verbena kept rubbing Sam's back and shot a hard glare at Hale. Sam had done the best he could and had provided all of the information detective wanted. He didn't need to be made to think he'd performed subpar.

Al listened to the detective's comment and the look Verbena shot him. "Um, yeah. Well, at least with our statements, Harry and Ted are more likely to get what they deserve."

Hale gave Al a short nod. "We've released your stuff from evidence. You can come down to the station and pick it up if you want." He gathered his notebook and tape recorder together preparatory to leaving.

Al smiled. "Right. I'll be down later today."

Hale thanked Sam and Al for their time then he and the three other detectives left. "I should have done better," Sam said as the door shut. "I should have been able to just tell him."

Al tilted his head. "What?" he questioned, not understanding Sam's concern.

"Nothing," Sam muttered. He got up from the chair at the table and moved the couple of steps to get to the bed and sat on it. He grabbed the crossword magazine from where it was on the bedside table. "It's not important."

Al shot a glance at Verbena before looking back at Sam. Not wanting to rock the boat, he answered. "Ok." After a short pause he added, "I'm going to go get our stuff."

"Ok," Sam responded. "Can we go home after that?"

Al shook his head, with a sigh. He hadn't taken into consideration the time it would take to finish the process when he'd told Sam they'd be able to leave after the questioning. "Not until they finish typing up our statements, Sam. We have to sign them before we leave." The Detectives had been crystal clear on that point. Al had asked to see when they could leave knowing Sam really wanted to.

"Tomorrow," Sam pressed looking for a definite time. He was convinced that if they could just get away from this place, things would start to look differently.

"I'll see if I can push it along, Kid." Al rubbed Sam's back for a moment. "Anyways, I need to get down there."

"You think when you get back we can go out somewhere and get some lunch? I'm tired of room service."

Al nodded. "Sure, Sam. I won't be long." He turned and left the room.

Verbena watched as Al left. "You did good, Sam," she said again. "I don't care what they said."

"Did not," Sam denied throwing the magazine back on the table. "I should have been able to just tell him without him prompting me like that."

"That's not being fair to yourself, Sam. You..." she started, before Sam stopped her.

"Not now, Verbena. Please." There was resignation in his voice as he spoke. "I can't do it anymore right now."

She bit at her lip. Knowing that he was still having difficulty dealing with the events, she smiled kindly. "Ok." She watched as Sam picked up the remote and put on a TV show. Figuring that he might want a little time to himself, she excused herself saying, "I have a few reports for the project I need to finish. I'll be in the next room if you need me."

Sam nodded shallowly but kept his attention on the TV. A few minutes after Verbena left the room, he picked up the crossword magazine again. Opening it up, he started to work on one of the puzzles while the TV played for background noise. He tried to keep his entire concentration on the puzzle and not think about anything that had happened but it wasn't easy. To complicate matters, his knee was again throbbing reminding him of its presence. He was able to ignore it for about an hour and a half before he didn't want to ignore it anymore. Looking around, he didn't see the bottle of painkillers. "'Bena, do you know where my meds are?" he called out.

"Verbena?" he called out again when she didn't answer him. Still not getting an answer, he got up from the bed. Grabbing his crutches, he made his way as quickly as he could to the door between the two rooms. "Where are you?" he asked. There was a slight undercurrent of panic in his voice. She'd said she'd be right in the next room if he needed her but why wasn't she answering? He wondered if she'd left him there to fend for himself.

A moment later, the woman appeared in the doorway between the rooms. "Did you call me, Sam?"

"Where were you?" he demanded. "You said you'd be there? Why did you leave me alone?"

Verbena answered quietly, "Sometimes I have to answer the call of nature, Sam."

Sam continued on not having heard what she said. "You were going to leave me just like Al did 'cause I'm not worth it." He looked around the room he was in then leaned through the doorway to look in the other room. "Why hasn't he come back yet? He left for good this time didn't he?"

Verbena walked into the room and moved closer to Sam. "I didn't leave you, Sam and I'm still here." She paused. "I'm sure that Al will be back soon. He probably just had a hold up at the police station."

Sam shook his head wildly. "No, he left this time just like everyone does. Just like Tommy did and Dad and D-d-donna. They left 'cause I'm weak. They don't want to be with me." He backed away from Verbena as best he could. "He was right."

"Harry?" Verbena asked, knowing that was the likely answer.

"Don't say that name," Sam hissed. "Don't ever say it again. I hate him. I should have...I should have shot him. I should have."

Verbena's eyebrows rose. In all the time that she'd known Sam, short though it may have been, the one thing she would have put money on was that he'd never say what he was saying now. "Then he would have won, Sam."

"I would have won. I would have because then he'd be wrong. He said I couldn't do it. That I was too much of a coward and he was right. He was right about everything." A multitude of emotions were crashing through Sam. The one that was resonating the most was anger and he gave in to it with everything he had. "I never proved he was wrong, damn it. He was right about everything."

Moving towards Sam again, she shook her head. "No, Sam. You weren't. A weak man wouldn't have stood up to him when your guide was murdered."

"I didn't stand up to him. I backed down." Sam cocked his head at her giving her a strange smile. "Didn't you hear? I played the coward but…but it was easy 'cause that's what I really am."

"You only backed down because Al asked you too," she tried to reason. "He was afraid Harry would kill you."

"No," Sam corrected quickly. "He knew I didn't have what it takes to stand up to someone like him…and I said, don't use that name again. You hear me?"

Verbena licked at her lips lightly. She was watching and listening to Sam now and felt pulled in multiple directions. As his friend, she wanted to just make this nightmare go away for him. As his employee, she wasn't sure her next actions would go down well. She knew that he might just decide to fire her. However, as his therapist, she knew she had to help Sam any way she could. "I heard you, Sam. You can't run away from this. Harry was wrong...so wrong. You're not weak and you never have been. You wouldn't be where you are right now if..."

"I said don't say that name," Sam exploded. Spying a glass on the table he was near, he grabbed it and hurled it so that it shattered against the wall near the door.

Verbena looked at the broken shards on the floor by the door. "Sam..." she started, but wasn't allowed to finish.

Sam shook off any of Verbena's attempts to try to pacify him. Ignoring her words, he systematically threw everything in reach as his anger hit an explosive level. When there was nothing else nearby that he could throw, he looked around for something else to take his anger out on. He crawled across the bed and picked up the alarm clock on the nightstand between the two beds. He yanked on it hard enough to rip the cord out of the back of it then hurled it across the room as well. "I hate him," he shouted as he made a grab for the lamp between the beds. "I don't want him to be right."

Seeing her employer melting down in front of her eyes, the psychiatrist tried to again reason with him. She rushed over to the lamp that Sam was obviously trying to reach. She grabbed it before he did but only by seconds. "You have every right to hate him, Sam. What he put you and Al through was awful and the fact that you had to witness a murder and not do anything is a terrible thing. But he isn't right."

Stymied in his grab for the lamp, Sam turned his anger to the bed. In a quick motion, he stripped the sheets and blankets throwing them as hard as he could. The pillows followed.

As Sam was in the midst of tearing the bed apart, the door opened with Al's voice crying out, "What the hell's going on here! I could hear you down the hall!" He heard a crunching sound and saw he was standing on broken glass. Quickly assessing the situation he moved toward Sam.

Sam was breathing heavily and his anger still wasn't spent. In the midst of his break-down he didn't hear or see Al enter the room. When he finished with the bedding he turned to where Verbena still held the lamp. As he reached out to pull it from her, he felt arms wrap around him from behind pinning his arms in place. He struggled against the hold screaming "no" over and over.

Seeing that Al had entered the room and had Sam in a tight hold, Verbena decided that medical intervention would be wise. Rushing to her medical bag, she filled a hypodermic with diazepam and moved quickly to where Al was struggling to maintain his hold. "I'm going to sedate him," she told Al.

Seeing the hypodermic in Verbena's hand, Sam struggled harder to free himself. "No. Go away," he yelled at her before going limp. "Don't," he begged. "I'll be good. I'll be good."

Feeling Sam go limp, Al relaxed his grip as well. "Don't Verbena," he requested not wanting any more stress heaped on Sam than already had been. "You heard him. He'll be good." He tilted his head down so his lips were close to Sam's ear. "Won't you, Buddy," he added softly earning a small nod from the man he restrained.

Verbena looked between the two men and nodded. She pulled away from them. "Ok, Al."

Sam waited until Al's grip relaxed and Verbena backed away from him before resuming his struggle. This time he was able to get free from the older man. It was obvious his actions had been ruse to get away from Al and the break-down was about to begin anew. He moved a few steps away before once again Al's arms were around him. This time, his struggles brought them both to the floor.

Verbena didn't give Sam a chance to fool them again. She knew that Al was strong but even he couldn't physically restrain Sam for long. Having a decent shot at his upper thigh, she shot the needle through his clothes and into the muscle.

"No," Sam screamed as he felt the hypo hit home and tried to push away Verbena. The drug took affect quickly and his body relaxed against Al. He stopped trying to get away and, instead, turned into Al. "I'm sorry. Don't go away," he said in a slurred voice. His breath came out in a small sigh and he leaned more heavily into Al. "My head hurts," he complained resting his forehead against Al's shoulder.

Al's hold on Sam tightened into a hug. Cupping the back of Sam's head in his hand, he pulled him more snugly into his shoulder. "I'm not going away, Sam. I told you before. I'll be here for you. That's a promise." At the complaint about headache, he asked, "Where does it hurt, Kid? Did you hit it on something?"

"Hurts," Sam repeated softly. "Gonna be sick."

Al's eyes turned to Verbena. "What did you give him?" he demanded. "You know he has a low tolerance." Sam let out a small, distressed noise and Al tightened his hold. "I'm not sure I can get him to the bathroom like this. Can you bring me that trash can?" He nodded to the small plastic bucket laying on its side from where Sam had thrown it in his tirade.

Verbena's head tilted. She'd used the same drug she'd used before and knew that the amount was within specifications for a man his size. The stress itself could do it, of course. "I gave him the same thing I gave him yesterday," she explained as she moved to get the trashcan. When she turned around, she saw Al rocking Sam gently and talking to him quietly. "It's ok, Sammy. It's ok."

As the drug took more and more effect, Sam's body began to feel leaden. He lifted a heavy hand and twisted it in the material of Al's shirt holding on tighter. "Don't go?" he asked again.

Verbena stopped moving and watched. Sam didn't look like he was going to be ill.

Al smiled gently. "I won't, Sammy. Whatever gave you the idea that I'd leave?"

"No one stays," Sam mumbled in a soft, barely heard voice. "Everyone goes."

"I won't," Al said firmly but gently. "Not willingly. They'll have to drag me kicking and screaming away before I'll leave."

"Mmmm," Sam murmured. He wasn't quite out from the drug but it was close.

"He's almost out," Al pointed out to Verbena. "Help me get him on my bed." He knew Sam's bed wasn't going to work until they got the bedding back on it. "I don't want him rolling over onto glass."

Verbena put the trashcan down. "Ok." She helped Al's hands to get the right grip to move him. "On three," she stated. A few moments later, Sam was lying on the only bed still made in the room.

Sam felt the movement and weakly tightened the hold he had on Al's shirt. He had to keep that hold if he was going to keep the hold on his sanity. It was his lifeline at that moment. The drug had made his thinking fuzzy – too fuzzy to hold onto a thought for more than a second but he knew if he let go of Al, something bad would happen.

Al felt Sam grab hold of him tighter. He started to pull his fingers off but there was an immediate grab to hold on, almost like a person holding onto a handhold by their fingernails. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Sam's. "I'm here now, Sammy, and I'll be here when you wake up."

The promise was enough for Sam. Every time Al had made a similar promise, he'd been there. He loosened his hold, letting his hand drop heavily to the bed and surrendered to the drug-induced sleep that was pulling at him.

Al waited until Sam's breathing had evened out before turning to Verbena. Nodding around the room he asked, "What the hell happened?"

"He got angry," Verbena answered simply.

"Angry?" Al queried looking around and taking in the destruction in the room. "This looks like more than angry. It looks like Hurricane Sam blew through here." As he spoke, he pulled the covers up over his sleeping friend and tucked them in.

"All the anger he's been holding in since this all began just started bubbling out of him," Verbena explained as she scooped the bedding off the floor and dropped it down on the unmade bed. "I don't think he knew any other way of expressing it right now."

When Al pulled his sweatshirt out of the tangle of bedding and laid it on the bed beside Sam, Verbena didn't say anything although her eyebrows did go up.

"Well, what the hell triggered it?" Al remained standing by the bed looking down at Sam. Although he was asleep, he didn't look very peaceful. His brow was still furrowed and he gave the appearance of a man who was troubled – which he was. Al gently stroked his hand over Sam's forehead hoping to erase those lines of fear, anger and worry. "It's gonna be ok, Sammy," he quietly murmured to the sleeping man. "I promise, Kid. We're gonna work this one out."

Twitching the covers in place one last time, he nodded toward the door that led to Verbena's room. "We need to talk…now."

Nodding in agreement, Verbena led the way to her room where they could talk without their voices disturbing Sam. Although, it wasn't likely that would happen due to the sedative she'd given him.

"You said he got angry and…and…" Al tried to find the words to describe what had happened, "…threw a tantrum. What I want to know is what pushed him over the edge like that?"

"You," Verbena answered simply before expounding on the answer. "You weren't here and he was convinced you weren't coming back."

Al's jaw dropped. "That's crazy. He should know that I'd be back."

"Ordinarily, he would know that but this isn't an ordinary time, Al."

Al let out a breath. He looked away as if girding himself. "Yeah, I know." He gave a small huff of frustration. "Nothing seems to be ordinary anymore."

"Well, if there's one thing I've learned in the last seven months it's that where the two of you are concerned, nothing's ever ordinary." She moved over to the table and chairs by the window and gestured for Al to join her there. For just the briefest moment, she'd seen the armor he'd been using to shield himself drop. "Sam's not the only one this is affecting."

Al looked at her. "Yeah. I imagine seeing the work you've done with him being undone by that sadistic nozzle would be upsetting to you."

"Come over here and sit down," Verbena suggested when Al continued to stand just inside the doorway. "I don't mean me. I mean you," she told him once he was seated across from her.

"I'm fine Verbena," Al said confidently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really?" She asked with an arched eyebrow. "You're going to tell me seeing your guide murdered had no effect on you? Seeing Sam a hair's breath away from the same fate didn't bother you in the least? You were completely fine when that man was hitting Sam just because he couldn't sleep because his knee was bothering him? None of that had any effect on you?" She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "I hear the Golden Gate Bridge is up for sale, too."

Al struggled to maintain his composure as she spoke about the situations that had occurred. Realizing she'd learned more about them, Al observed, "You were in the room with Sam when he was giving his statement."

"I was," Verbena responded wondering where the statement was leading. "Detective Hale allowed me to stay while he took Sam's statement."

"Ok. So you know more about what happened." Al got up and started pacing. After a few circuits in silence he started, "Yeah. It bothered me. It bothered the hell out of me. I saw my best friend struggling to deal with that fucking bastard and being torn apart. I watched it and I did nothing but tell Sam we had to wait for an opening. I told him he couldn't do what he wanted to do or neither of us would survive." He stopped and turned to look at her, his eyes blazing. "First chance I had I should have bashed the bastard's brains in with a rock or something." He looked away. "I felt something was wrong when they first came into camp but Sam told me I was being paranoid so I didn't do anything about it."

Verbena watched as Al paced around the room. She felt a chill go down her spine when he vocalized his wish that he'd killed Harry. She knew he wasn't a man to take another's life lightly. She'd found that out firsthand talking with him after he and Sam had come back from Los Angeles. The way he was talking now, she knew he'd have done exactly what he said if given the chance. "Sam's alive. I'd say you did plenty."

"I did plenty?" Al said in self derision. "He's got Harry's words in his head and he's not letting them go. I'd say I didn't do nearly enough." He bit his lip. "You know when I finally got away to go get help, I heard that monster beating Sam and what did I do? I kept on running and let it happen. What kind of a friend am I?"

"And if you'd tried to do anything to change that, what then? What do you think he would have done to you...to Sam?" Verbena made sure she presented the questions reasonably so that Al would have to think about them. "Yes, he was beating Sam and it was probably the hardest thing you had to do to keep going but if you'd turned around and hadn't found the sheriff, do you think Sam would be alive right now? Do you think you'd be alive?"

Al stared at her, his mouth trying to form an answer and failing to do so. Finally, he said almost defeated, "I don't know. Maybe, maybe not." He took the questioning look she shot at him and finally acknowledged, "Probably not. We'd probably both be dead." With a shrug he continued, "Me...I've been there before. I'm a survivor and nothing's beaten me yet. Sam, though...I'm afraid this is going to destroy him."

"Giving up on him so easily?" she asked pointedly. "Is he right? Are you going to walk away because things aren't so easy right now?"

Al's eyes burned hot and his voice took on a dangerous quality. "Don't you ever say something like that again. I've been through a lot worse times than this and didn't give up. I won't give up on Sam - ever and you can put money on that."

Verbena's lips curved in a small, satisfied smile. "I thought that's what you'd say."

Al's head tilted and his eyes narrowed a bit. "You practicing your voodoo on me, doctor?"

"No, just trying to make you see what you already know." Verbena rose from the chair moving to stand in front of Al. She rested her hand on his arm. "You know you didn't have any other choice than to do what you did. You know that if you had made other choices it could have been disastrous for Sam or for you. How much worse do you think it would be for him right now if you'd been killed because you tried to be a hero?"

Al considered her words and finally acknowledged. "You're right." He looked at her intently. "I think if we'd been any later getting back, Sam would have killed Harry. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get the gun from him." He looked somewhat guilty. "I basically had to trick him to get him to back down and let the sheriff take them down."

"Sam alluded to that." Grasping Al's arm, she gave a little tug and moved back to the table and chairs. "He didn't say anything about you tricking him, though. Just that you'd taken the gun from him."

"I asked him to give me the gun but Harry had him so turned around inside, he didn't listen at first." He let out a breath, "but when I called him son, he listened and let me take the gun."

"And how was that tricking him?" Verbena prompted. "It was imperative that he listen to you and if that got his attention, I'm not sure that's really a trick."

"I played on his emotions, Bena. He'd already had enough mind games."

"What was Sam's reaction when you called him son?" Verbena's studied calm was in contrast to Al's frustration. "Did he react negatively?" Again, she was making him think it through so he could come to his own conclusions.

"He thought I was John Beckett. That's why he gave me the gun." Al dropped his head down; embarrassed at the way he'd deceived his friend. "He called me Daddy," he said softly.

"Oh," Verbena said softly. It hadn't been quite what she'd been expecting for an answer but it did put a different spin on some of her observations of Sam. She took a moment to regroup. "We've talked in the past about how Sam sees you as a sort of parental figure," she began slowly. "Does that bother you?"

Al shook his head. "No. If I'd ever had a son, I'd be damned proud if he was half the man Sam Beckett is." He paused. 'We've come a long way in a few years. Having Sam walk into my life was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time, maybe ever. If he sees me as a parental figure, I'm ok with that." He paused once more. "Still, I know I can never fill Sam's father's shoes and I don't want to. Using that ploy...well..." he trailed off.

"Are you worried that Sam's going to be upset because you did that?" She didn't let him answer. "Al, he knows you'd only do something like that through love." Seeing the scowl on his face at what she said she continued, "don't be making that face. Love isn't a dirty word."

"Yeah. I've had five wives, you know." He then answered her question. "With all the stuff that's happened since the blizzard, I'm just worried that ultimately Sam's going to resent me for that."

"Al, I don't think he could resent you for anything." She studied him for a long moment before asking, "Don't you realize you're one of the most important people in his life? Why do you think he's been obsessing over whether or not you're leaving or why he's trying so hard to please you right now?"

"Yeah. I get that." He paused before asking, "What do I do to help him?" he asked in frustrated helplessness. "I don't know if I should just try to get him to snap out of this or just...just...I don't know, comfort him."

"What's your instinct telling you, Al?" Verbena asked back. "What is your gut instinct when it comes to this?"

Al thought about what she was asking him. He knew that conventional wisdom would be to keep up the 'stiff upper lip' kind of attitude, but that just didn't seem right. The kid was really reeling from all the things that had happened over the past six months and before. He wasn't sure how Verbena would take his answer so he hesitantly responded, "Right now, I just want to take that look out of his eyes. I want to tell him not to let what that psycho told him get to him and I have but he just looks at me with those big, lost eyes and I feel like I kicked a puppy to curb. I just want to take that look out of his eyes and do whatever I have to so that he knows he's not a worthless piece of crap like that SOB kept telling him and that I'll do whatever I have to in order to keep him safe."

Verbena smiled slightly when she heard the passion in Al's words. "Your instinct is guiding you well. Right now, there's a scared little boy inside of Sam that's taken over. He needs to know that he's safe and he needs to know that he's cared about." She sat down on one of the chairs and gestured for Al to take the one across the table from her. "From everything Sam's told me - and you, I know that the Beckett's did everything in their power to give him as normal, stable and loving a childhood as they could. I also know that sometimes, that didn't always work out as well as they'd have liked and, consequently, Sam was always left with this desire not only to please others but also to find a way to fit in. Losing his father and brother as young as he did has also left him feeling vulnerable and that he's going to lose the people he's closest to.. Earlier, he mentioned someone named Donna leaving him. Who's that?"

Al's face clouded over. "That was the woman he asked to marry him. The bit...um...Donna didn't bother to show up for their wedding." Al paused remembering that day and how it had affected Sam. "He stood there at the altar; sure she was just running late until it was obvious she wasn't coming. Even then, he spent the next couple of hours on the stairs of the church sure it was all a mistake."

It didn't surprise Verbena that Al would feel so strongly about this woman. "Did she ever tell Sam why she called off the wedding?"

Al shook his head in disgust. "No. Just a note saying she couldn't commit to being with him. Get's him all the way to the altar before figuring that out." He was quiet a moment remembering. "I'm surprised he'd say anything to you about her."

"I only think he mentioned her because of how upset he was." She was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Whether this Harry knew what he was doing or not, he did a damned fine job of psychological torture on Sam these past several days. Not only has he managed to undermine Sam's sense of self-worth but he also managed to take away his sense of security as well and plant a thought in his head that he was going to lose you as well."

"So how do we fix those problems?" Al asked once Verbena had outlined the problems she saw.

"Right now we do it by following your gut instinct. Sam needs to be reassured that he's safe and that he's worth so much more than what that....that...." Verbena struggled to use a word fitting for polite company but still descriptive enough to convey what she felt about Harry after all she'd heard so far. "That animal," she finally settled on. "He needs to know he's worth so much more than what that animal kept telling him and that the people he's closest to aren't going to leave him."

Al nodded unconsciously as Verbena spoke. He was glad she wasn't telling him he had to keep up the 'get over it' routine. He was somewhat unsure, though, how to proceed. "So how do we do that?"

"By being patient and giving Sam whatever kind of support he's looking for. It's going to take time and, I think, a lot of work on your part." She crossed her hands on the table leaning forward. "Like I said, Sam sees you in a parental role. I think that's going to be coming up a lot more in the next few days and weeks. He's going to look to you to provide the security he feels was violated and right now you're the person he's most worried about leaving. I know you said he's seemed almost clingy since you got back from the hospital."

"Yeah," Al agreed. "You've seen how he's acting. It wasn't any different before you arrived. He keeps saying he feels like if he's alone or I'm not with him that something's going to happen."

"Well, that's the first hurdle we're going to have to get him over. Once he's sure you're not going to up and leave him because you think he's weak, the rest is going to get a lot easier." Verbena leaned back in the chair. "I was watching the two of you last night when you were working. That's the most normal and calm I've seen Sam since I got here and I think that's because neither of you were thinking about what you were doing."

Al realized that what she said resonated. "Yeah. It felt good. It felt normal."

Go with what your gut instinct is telling you to do. I think it's probably the best thing for the both of you right now. As much as Sam needs to know you're going to be there, I can see you need to make sure he's ok."

Al smiled. "Yeah. The kid's been through way too much. I just want to know things will be ok for him."

"They will, Al," Verbena reassured. "He's a little bent and bruised right now but Sam's got too strong of a will to stay like that forever. It's going to be hard for him but he is going to get there."

Al looked over to Verbena. "You know, most shrinks I've had to deal with have been real nozzles. Somehow, you don't fit that mold."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she responded lightly before her tone turned serious again. "It is going to be hard for him. He's going to have to face things he doesn't want to and he's going to be looking to you to provide the security he needs. Can you do that without letting him take it too far?"

"What do you mean?" Al asked, not sure where she was going.

"Al, Sam knows what he has to say or do to get certain responses from you. Earlier, when he said he had a headache and was going to be sick, it was an excuse to get a response out of you - so that you wouldn't leave."

Not sure he understood her correctly, Al tried to clarify. "Huh? You think Sam was lying to me?"

"You could say that. He gets a paper cut and you're ready to put a tourniquet on it," Verbena laughed. "You can't let him use that, though, because then he'll start thinking it's the only reason why you're here."

Realizing this was going to be harder than he thought, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It's never easy with these things, is it?" It was said more as a comment than question.

"No, it isn't. Do you remember the advice I gave you back in February when you first asked me about talking with Sam?"

"I think so but you might want to refresh my memory on that," Al countered.

"Be honest," Verbena answered simply. "Just be honest with him. If you think he's trying to manipulate you like that - whether he's doing it on purpose or not - be honest and tell him you know he's doing that."

Al nodded, "Ok." He smiled. "The kid's asked me to do much the same, only he said I should tell him when he's being an ass."

"So tell him he's being an ass. Just make sure you let him know that even if he's being an ass, that doesn't mean you're going to give up on him. After a while, he won't question it anymore."

"Ok, Bena. I'll do it. Anything that will help get Sam back to who he is."

"He will." Verbena smiled at him to set his mind at ease. "With you in his corner, I don't see how he can't"


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Over the next several hours, Al and Verbena worked on separate projects. While Verbena caught up on some personnel reports, Al was working at developing his flight plan for flying back to New Mexico after the police released them to go. He'd been thinking about that ever since picking up the items that had been released by the police earlier. When he'd gone through the items returned to them at the police station, he realized that there were a few things that weren't in the packs. When he asked, Detective Hale had acknowledged the mistake and promised that the other items would be available the next day after the statements were prepared. Al had accepted that before taking the most of the items released to the plane. A few things, he'd brought back to the room.

He figured they'd be flying back, likely with Verbena as well, and that required doing calculations for the extra weight. He was almost finished when he heard stirring in the next room. He'd checked Sam a few times and an hour or so ago saw that his sleep had changed from a drug-induced one to a natural one.

Hearing the noise, he went to the doorway and looked in at his sleeping friend. He was distressed to see Sam obviously in the grip of a nightmare once more as his head tossed on the pillow and his face screwed up in a grimace.

"Nooo," Sam moaned. He was rubbing his hands repeatedly over his face. "No. Make it go away."

Al moved quickly over to Sam. Remembering what Verbena had said, he sat on the side of the bed and took his hands gently. "What is it, Sam? What's rolling around your noggin now?"

Sam didn't answer, just tried to pull his hands from the gentle grasp restraining them. When that didn't work, he turned his face against the pillow rubbing it as if he were trying to wipe something off of it.

"Sam, tell me what's going on. What are you trying to get rid of?" Al all but begged, hoping Sam could tell him.

Still affected by the residual of the drug in his system, Sam was slow to verbalize what he was dreaming. He knew Al was there, though, and he could make it go away. He moved just the slightest bit closer to where his friend sat on the side of the bed and stopped trying to free his hands. "On my face, Al. The blood's on my face."

Al's heart fell at the words. He recalled when Sam had had dreams about Tom's blood on him during the trip to Hawaii. That had been caused by misplaced guilt. Then there was the same reaction to Rick's blood right after his murder. Al was certain the kid was continuing to internalize what had happened and that was bringing back the same type of dreams. "I'll take care of it, Sam." Remembering those other times, he called out to Verbena, "Get me a warm washcloth 'Bena."

The psychiatrist had followed Al into the other room and, although not sure what fully was going on, went into the bathroom to fulfill the request. She brought it over to Al.

He looked up gratefully and took the warm, damp washcloth. Softly washing Sam's face, he comforted, "Here you go, Kid. I'll wash it all away, ok? That feel better?"

Sam watched his friend's eyes carefully as Al wiped the washcloth over his face cleaning the blood that only he could feel. When he was done, he smiled up at him before closing his eyes and slipping back to sleep.

Al swallowed tightly. "God, I hope the old dreams aren't coming back too."

"What old dreams?" Verbena asked curiously. She took the washcloth Al returned to her as he continued to sit on the edge of Sam's bed.

"He used to have dreams about his brother, Tom. He was killed in Vietnam. Somehow Sam got it in his head he was responsible and he used to have dreams about the blood being on him."

"I'm going to assume that's worked before when he had those dreams – washing the bloom from him." Verbena looked down studying Sam's sleeping face. "You'd never know how tough he's had it unless you know him well."

Al nodded. "Yeah. Not fair. Not fair at all."

Al's and Verbena's voices were enough to pull Sam from the light sleep he'd fallen into and he again opened his eyes blinking up at Al. "Al? What're you doing?" He was more oriented this time although the drug was still having an effect on him.

"Just checking on you, Kid. How you feeling?"

"A little weird." Sam pushed up so he was sitting with Al's help. He looked around the room taking in the state of it. The memories of what had happened earlier came flooding back to him. "Oh boy," he breathed out. "I made a real mess."

"It's ok, Sam. We've talked to the management. It'll be taken care of," Al told him. What he didn't tell him was that he'd agreed to pay for refurbishing the room. The situation that he and Sam had been in was big news in the area and the manager was willing to accept the corrective action.

"It's not ok," Sam insisted. His thinking was still slow and sluggish but he knew exactly what had caused the destruction he was seeing. He'd had a good, old-fashioned temper tantrum. "I acted like a child." He hung his head down realizing that if the hotel management had seen the havoc he'd wreaked, that most likely meant they'd be financially responsible for it. "You must be mad at me."

"No. Not mad." Al saw Sam looking at him like he thought he was placating him. "Listen, Kid...if you did this because you didn't get your way about some cabling or something then yeah, I'd be pissed. Really pissed. But this wasn't caused by something like that. This was caused because you reached the breaking point with what happened this past week. So no. I'm not mad." He paused. "You think you got the tantrum out of your system?"

"I guess so," Sam answered tentatively. He looked around the room again seeing the shape it was in. "You're sure you're not mad. I'd be if I were you."

"I told you. I'm not mad. However, if you've gotten it out of your system, then I would be mad if there's a repeat. Capice?"

"Yeah, capice," Sam quickly answered.

"Do you want to talk about what happened," Verbena offered.

Sam quickly looked in her direction not realizing she was in the room. "Not really, Bena." Seeing the look on her face that his refusal brought, he added, "You can dissect my brain all you want later, just not right now. Right now I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm thirsty and it feels like someone's trying to pull my leg off at the knee. I just can't get into all that now."

"You need your pain meds now" Al asked, standing to go get them for his friend.

Sam nodded then remembered what had originally started his meltdown. "I don't know where they are." He looked around the room once more taking in the mess. "I really don't know where they are in all this."

Al and Verbena had straightened up a little while Sam had been asleep and Al told him, "Got them right here, Kid. Let me get you some water."

"Thanks." When Al brought the water to him, Sam took one of the pills from bottle, swallowed it, and then drained the water. He handed the glass back to Al with a small sigh. "I don't know what you shot me up with Bena, I don't feel so great right now."

Al looked at Sam. "It was the same thing you took earlier to sleep, Sam. If it didn't affect you then, it shouldn't be affecting you now."

"I just feel weird. Kinda shaky."

"That could be because you haven't had much to eat today and you've been under a lot of stress," Verbena supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that's probably it," Sam agreed. "I am hungry."

"Then let's get you some food, Kid," Al said. "You want room service again or you want to go out."

"You think we can go out?" Sam asked hopefully. He looked down at the rumpled clothing he had on. "Just not someplace fancy or anything."

"That's not a problem. Detective Hale told me about a few places in town. Not very many fancy places on his list in any case. Most are simple cafes. You know, real Mom and Pop type places."

"That sounds good, Al." Sam slowly got up from the bed. He reached for the crutches and started walking in the direction of the bathroom. "Just give me a few minutes"

"Ok, Sam. No hurry."

"Why don't the two of you go on and get something to eat," Verbena encouraged them. "I think I'm going to stay here and do a little more of that work I brought with me." She wanted to give the two men the time to do something approaching normal together so that they could regain their balance.

Ten minutes later Sam came out of the bathroom. His hair was damp in patches where he'd wet it to get it to stay down after being in bed. He'd brushed his teeth and washed his face making himself as presentable as possible in a short time. "There another shirt I can put on? I uh...I think that glass I threw still had orange juice in it and there's stains on this one," he said sheepishly.

Al nodded and went over to the drawer where he'd put the t-shirts he'd bought the previous day. Pulling out one for Sam, he handed it over to him. "Here you go, Kid."

"Thanks." Sam quickly changed his shirt, dropping the dirty one on the tangle of bedding that was still on the bed he'd used the previous night. "You ready?"

"Sure. Let me get the keys." At the look on Sam's face he clarified. "I got a car after I went to the police station today."

"Oh, I guess that was a good idea." While Al got the keys, Sam poked his head into the other room where Verbena had returned. "You sure you don't want us to get you anything 'Bena?"

She looked up from her work and smiled warmly. "No, Sam. I'll just order room service when I get hungry. You and Al have a good time."

"Ok, if you're sure then. See ya later."

Al led the way out of the hotel. As they walked through the lobby, the desk clerk called out. "I'm so sorry Admiral Calavicci and Dr. Beckett. We're glad you two are ok." The way it was said inferred that the 'we' mentioned was the hotel staff.

Sam stiffened as soon as he heard the desk clerk's voice. "What's he talking about," he demanded of Al just loud enough to be heard by his friend.

Al remembered Verbena's conversation at the door right after Sam had been sedated earlier. "What happened to us was news, Sam. People are aware of it."

That brought Sam to a stop. "Everyone's going to know?" he half-questioned, half-stated. "I can't go out there, Al," he said in trepidation. "They're all going to know. They're going to know what happened and that I did nothing."

Al sighed. "Sam...anyone that knows will just be glad those sorry SOB's didn't take down anyone else."

"No. They'll know that people they know died and I didn't do a thing about it." Sam started moving back toward the elevator. "I can't face them. They're going to know I'm a coward." He was acutely aware that he was drawing the attention of everyone in the lobby and wanted to escape that and get back to the room.

Al looked at Sam and decided to follow Verbena's advice and go with his gut. The kid needed to see that others weren't going to see the situation the way he was allowing it to play in his mind. Deciding to go for broke he nodded. "Ok Sam. You go on back to the room. Verbena's there. I'm going out for something other than room service."

Sam stopped just outside the elevator doors torn as to what he should do. He didn't want to have to see the certain disappointment on the faces of others he was sure to see but he also didn't want Al to go out without him. There was still the irrational fear, and he knew it was irrational, that if Al weren't with him, something was going to happen. "Come with me," he said in a voice tinged with pleading.

Al saw the puppy dog face that Sam wore and it just about killed him to deny it. However, he had to be strong for Sam's sake. "You'll be ok, Kid. Like I said, Verbena's there. I'm just going to get some chow and then I'll be back."

"No," Sam demanded. His hands were in such tight fists by his side that his nails were digging into his palms. You can't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you, Sam. I'll be back. I'm just going to get some dinner. I'd welcome the company. I was looking forward to getting out with you."

"But they'll know, Al, and they'll hate me." Sam looked between his friend and the elevators unsure what to do.

Al went over to him and took his shoulder. "I don't think they will, Sam. I've walked in places where I was hated for who I was or what I did and I can tell you, it won't happen here."

"I want to believe you." Sam looked up and studied the earnest brown eyes of his friend. He gave a short nod after a moment. "I'll try."

Al smiled. "Good. I'm sure the fried chicken will taste all the better with you across the table from me." He pulled on his arm gently. "Now let's go. I'm hungry."

They went to a small diner not far from the hotel. If it weren't for the fact that Sam was still hampered by his knee injury, they could have walked to it.

The food was good and hearty with plenty served. Contrary to Sam's fear, no one in the diner recognized who he or Al was or, if they did, they didn't let on. The two men enjoyed a nice, leisurely meal. The conversation steered clear of any of the recent events and, instead, they talked about their plans for the project when they got back.

When they were done with their dinner, they went back to the car to go back to the hotel. As Al started it up and started to pull out, Sam asked if they could go for a ride.

"Yeah, sure, Sam. Where were you thinking of?"

"I wasn't," Sam answered with a shrug. "I just thought it might be nice since it's a pleasant night out. I'm just not ready to go back to the room yet." He thought it best not to mention to Al that he didn't feel like going back and facing the desk staff at the hotel. . Maybe if they were out long enough, the shift would change and there'd be no one there who witnessed the scene he'd been making in the lobby. "Do you know where they took Farkel? Maybe we could go visit him."

Al tilted his head. "Not sure. I think I heard something down at the station about him being stabled at the same outfitters I hired. I have their card." Before putting the car in gear he pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he pulled out Rick's card. He scrutinized it for a moment, saddened once more by the events that had lead to the guide's death. The man certainly hadn't deserved what happened to him. With a sigh, he turned the card over. It had a map on the back. "Yeah. Here's the address. We'll be there in about 10 minutes." He then pulled the car out of its parking space and into traffic.

As they drove by a small grocery story, Sam asked Al to stop the car so he could go in. "I want to get him some apples," he explained when his friend looked at him oddly.

Al smiled. Sam was like that. Caring for others, human or not. "Sure, Kid. We can do that." Once he parked he asked. "You want me to go in with you?"

"If you want, but I think I can handle a few apples." His worry about the people in town recognizing him and blaming him for the deaths of anyone had been muted by the fact that nothing of that sort had happened in the diner. As he pulled the crutches from the backseat, he realized he would need Al's help to carry anything. "On second thought, I might need some help."

Once inside, Sam moved to the produce aisle, picking out an apple for the horse as well as a few carrots. At the checkout, the older man behind the counter seemed to show some recognition in his eyes, but didn't say anything. Al had returned Sam's wallet to him and now watched as the younger man pulled out the cash and paid for the items before taking the bag with a thank-you. The cashier smiled. "Glad to be of service."

The two men went back to the car and within moments they were on their way again.

It didn't take long before they arrived at the stable. "You think they'll let us in to see him?" Sam asked nervously. It had occurred to him that since this was the outfit that employed Rick, he and Al would definitely be known. Once again, he started to worry that he'd be seen as somehow responsible for Rick's death.

"I'm sure they will, Sam."

A man met them at as they got out. "Can I help you?" he asked casually.

Yeah," Al said putting his hand out. "I'm Al Calavicci. This is Sam Beckett."

The man took his hand. "You were Rick's clients."

Al nodded. "Yeah. We're sorry for your loss." Once more, he thought about how things had transpired and wondered what would have happened if different choices had been made. Still, he was enough of a realist to know there wasn't anything that could be done to change the past. "Rick didn't deserve what happened."

While Al introduced them to the man, Sam remained silent, just behind him.

"No. He didn't." The man took a deep breath. "Rick was a good guy. We'll miss him." He added, "I'm Peter Hopkins, by the way." He seemed to size the two men up. "There's going to be a memorial tonight at the city auditorium for the people those monsters killed, including Rick.. If you'd like to join us, we'd be pleased to have you."

Al looked over to Sam, not wanting to commit without his agreement. "Would we be able to see Rick's horse, Farkel before we say? Sam has a few treats to give him."

"Yeah. Sure. Farkel will enjoy that, I'm sure." Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just a shame we're going to have to sell him."

"Sell him?" Sam questioned. "Why do you have to sell him? He didn't do anything wrong."

"That's not the problem. Horses cost a lot for upkeep. We all have our own for our trips. There just isn't anyone that can take him and we'll need the money to help defray Rick's funeral costs." He saw the concern in Sam's eyes. "Don't worry. We'll find him a good home. Let me take you to him."

Sam moved as quickly as he could to the stall indicated. When he reached it, he leaned his crutches against the wall, opened the stall door, and stepped in. "Hey, Fella," he said quietly rubbing his hand along the animal's powerful neck. "I brought you a treat." He looked around to where Al was holding the bag with the apples and carrots. When Al handed it to him, he pulled out an apple and held it out on his hand for the horse to take.

As Farkel munched on his treat, Sam rubbed his hand up and down the strong neck whispering softly to him. When Farkel was done with the apple, he turned his head to Sam and bumped him gently. He was careful not upset his balance almost as if he sensed that Sam wasn't steady on his feet.

Sam put his arms around the horse's neck and leaned his face against the warm flesh. "I'm sorry, Fella. Sorry I couldn't do anything to save him." The horse nickered softly as if he were absolving Sam of any guilt that he felt.

Al watched the man and the horse interacting. For the first time since they'd left the mountain, Al saw Sam relax. It was almost as if the guilt and fear he felt left him while caring for the animal. He took the carrots and laid them on a shelf that was used to hold brushes and other accoutrements. He knew Sam could reach them. "I'll be back in a second, Sam. Need to take care of something. You'll be all right with Farkel?"

"Mmm hmmm," Sam murmured. This was the first time he'd felt peaceful since meeting Ted and Harry. He wasn't even sure anymore how many days ago that was. He licked at his lips realizing that if anything, things seemed to be getting worse. He couldn't seem to shake the thoughts he'd been having. Right now, though, he felt pretty good. He released his hold on Farkel and took one of the carrots to feed to the animal. While Al stepped out to do whatever it was he was doing, Sam continued to talk softly to the horse, feeding him a few carrots and just finding peace being with him.

Feeling that he could leave, the older man went back out to find Peter. He found him in the office of the main building. "Mr. Hopkins, can I speak to you about Farkel?"

Peter looked up from the paperwork he'd been checking. "Sure. What can I do for you?"

Al was somewhat hesitant, not sure that Sam was going to appreciate his meddling again this time. However, seeing how the kid responded to the horse, he was sure this was the right thing to do. Verbena had said to go with his gut and right now his gut was telling him to bring the horse home with them – that somehow he could help Sam. "How would one go about purchasing him? Would I be able to get him shipped to New Mexico?"

Peter looked up at the man. "Why would you want to do that?"

Al shrugged. "I'd hate to think the horse might not find a good home. We might not have been able to stop that bastard from killing Rick, but we can sure see to it that Rick's horse is ok."

Peter smiled. "That's real nice of you. Rick loved that horse. I'm sure he'd appreciate knowing Farkel was in a good place." He went over the procedures that would need to be followed and assure him that shipping the horse to NM, while expensive, wasn't impossible. Al told him to draw up the papers and he'd see him next day to complete the transaction.

Al then turned to go back to the stable. Right before he went out the door, Peter called out, "I just want to let you know, we're really glad you two weren't killed as well. It's bad enough with the three who died, but from what I understand, Harry Larkess is a real piece of work and no one was safe after he started killing."

Al acknowledged the sentiment, again passing on his and Sam's condolences and let him know that he'd be at the memorial service. He said he wasn't sure about Sam since he was still healing from his injuries. Peter had nodded and said he understood. Al then went back to the stable to catch up with Sam again. He found him with the horse still.

Sam heard Al come into the stable and glanced at him over his shoulder then turned his attention back to Farkel. He was feeding him the last carrot and rubbing up and down his neck. When the carrot was gone, the horse bumped him gently looking for more. "That's enough," Sam said with a chuckle. "You eat anymore and you're gonna get fat."

Hearing his friend chuckling made Al feel better than he had since the nightmare began. Verbena was right, it would take awhile, but the Sam he knew was still there. He asked with a grin, "You ready to go Kid? Or you want to spend some more time with your friend?"

"I'm ready," Sam answered reluctantly. He rubbed up and down the horse's nose. "You be good. I'm sure you're going to get a real good home." The horse nickered softly once more. Giving Farkel one more pat, Sam grabbed his crutches and joined Al at the entrance to the stable. "Maybe he'll go someplace with kids," he posited. "I bet he'd be good with kids."

"Yeah," Al said getting an idea. "Don't you have a neighbor that does something like that? Therapy riding or something?"

"Um...yeah...I guess. I'm not really sure." In all the time Sam had been living in his house, he'd always been too busy getting the project off the ground to spend much time meeting his neighbors. He was sure Al had probably met them more than he had.

"Yeah. I think Jorge Perez does that. The guy who lives on your right. You know, he has that sign in his yard, next to the entrance with the phone number for the agency that coordinates all that."

"If you say so." Sam had often wondered if he might have gotten to know his neighbors a little bit better if they were closer. Since the road he lived on was removed from town, the houses were spaced out. "How do you know him anyway?"

"I've seen him down at the tobacco store. The place that orders my cigars for me. He lives with his father. They come from Cuba and I guess the old man still enjoys his cigars too. Too bad they can't get the kind he likes."

Sam's head tilted. "Why not."

"Can't buy Cuban products in the U.S. Sam. The old man gets the ones from the Dominican Republic now. Nice brand, but not Cuban."

"Oh, ok." They'd reached the car and Sam handed his crutches to Al while he got in the front seat. "Were you able to get all our stuff from the police?" He'd just remembered that that's why Al had gone down to the police station earlier.

"Well, most of it. When I checked there were a few things they weren't sure belonged to one of us. I got it straightened out though. We'll pick up the rest of it when we sign our statements, probably tomorrow."

"Probably?" Sam leaned his head back against the headrest and looked up at the roof of the car. "I want to get out of here, Al."

"I know you do, Kid. Detective Hale said that's what they were aiming at. If everything goes smoothly then we should be out of here by tomorrow afternoon. He started the car and pulled out.

"Tomorrow can't come soon enough, then." Sam turned his head to the window so he could watch the scenery pass by. "It'll be better at home, won't it?"

"It should be, Sam." It wasn't in Al's nature to offer Sam false comfort but this was a situation where he knew his friend needed something to help him through this difficult time. Hopefully, his words wouldn't prove false and things would get better. "We'll be back to work and I know that will help both of us get through this."

Sam held onto Al's words. He knew his friend couldn't make a promise and wouldn't make a promise he couldn't keep but the words still acted as a lifeline for him anyway. In 24 hours, maybe a little more, they'd be home and once they were, things would go back to normal. As long he believed that, he could get through the next day.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Al and Sam drove back to the hotel, more quiet than not. Sam was still obviously in thought and Al wasn't sure what to say at the moment. The way Sam was holding himself concerned him and he remembered how tight the younger man's muscles had been the previous winter when he'd first been on crutches. He wondered if he was uncomfortable and in pain because of that. They were silent all the way up to their room.

Hearing the two men enter, Verbena came to the doorway separating the two rooms. "Did you have a nice dinner?"

"It was good." Wearily, Sam went to the table and chairs by the window and sat down, obviously trying to get comfortable. He nodded his thanks when Al took the crutches from him. "We went to see Farkel afterwards."

"Farkel?" Who's that? I didn't think either of you knew anyone here."

"Um, we don't know anyone, Verbena." Al supplied. At the confusion on her face he added, "Farkel's the horse that was with us. He belonged to our guide, Rick. The man that was murdered." He said it calmly and quietly.

"You went to visit a horse?" Verbena asked to make sure she understood.

"Just because he's not human doesn't mean someone shouldn't care about him," Sam responded hotly. He interpreted Verbena's words as criticism of the visit. "He's got no one to care about him now." He arched his back trying to stretch the muscles.

"Easy, Kid." Al rubbed the upset man's back soothingly. "I don't think Verbena meant anything bad."

"No, Sam, I didn't," Verbena quickly chimed in. "I guess I was just surprised."

Sam nodded. "Ok." He reached back toward his back. "Damn that hurts."

"What hurts," asked Verbena. She'd noticed him moving about.

"I must have pulled a muscle in my back when I …when I…uh…when I was upset before," he said with a furrowed brow, referring to his meltdown of earlier.

"Well, that's possible. You were rather animated."

"I guess that's one way to say it." Sam tried to stretch out again. "Al, didn't the hospital give me some muscle relaxants, too?"

Al checked the second prescription that had been filled but not used. "Yeah, here it is. They gave you Carousel…no Carisoprodol."

Sam brow furrowed as he recalled all he knew about the drug in question. "I'll have to cut down on how much Demerol I take."

Verbena nodded. "Definitely or you could overdose on them." She took the bottle from Al and read the dosage instructions on it then shook out one of the small, white pills and handed it to the man. Al brought him a glass of water.

Sam took the medicine. "I think I'm going to watch some TV for a bit." He moved over to his bed which he saw had been remade. For a moment, the memory of his meltdown saddened him. "You didn't have to make the bed up, did you Verbena?"

She shook her head no. "The hotel sent one of the maids up."

Sam looked down again, obviously embarrassed about what he'd caused. Al went over to him. "Kid, it's over. Don't let it bother you anymore. Ok?"

Taking a breath and letting it out, Sam nodded. "Ok." He lay down and turned on the TV with the remote. Al stretched out on his bed. Verbena excused herself and went back into her room.

The two men spent the next hour watching TV. During the news, there was an announcement about the memorial service to be held that night. Al rubbed the back of his neck and then looked over to his friend. "Sam? I really think one of us should be at Rick's memorial." As soon as he said it, he could see the stress rising in his friend's eyes.

"I don't want to go. Please don't make me go." Sam responded in a voice bordering on panic. "They'll hate me."

Al chewed at his lip. "That wouldn't happen, Sam." He could see that his friend wasn't up to it, though. He went over to the door between the rooms and called Verbena in. He was going to go and wanted her to know that Sam would be alone.

Before he could tell her what he was planning to do, Sam, still thinking that he would insist on his going, shot a quick look over to her. "Tell him. Tell him I can't go. I can't because...because..." He levered himself up from the bed, grabbed the crutches and started to slowly pace the room all the while asking that he not be made to go.

Verbena looked confused. "Can't go where?"

Al sighed. If Sam had been his normal self, this wouldn't even be a concern. He responded first to his distraught friend. "I know, Kid. You can't go because you can't right now. I understand." He then explained to Verbena. "There's a memorial service for the people from here who were killed. Rick, our guide, was one of them. I'm going to go. I won't be long but I wanted you to know."

Verbena nodded. "And Sam doesn't want to go," she finished quietly.

"Yeah. I understand that, though and it's not a problem. I'll go for both of us." He turned to Sam. "You'll be ok here with Verbena." Al picked up his jacket and started to the door.

"Ok," Sam agreed relieved that he wouldn't have to go as well. He settled on one of the chairs near the table in the room and wiped a hand over his face and realized that it also mean he and Al would be separated for a time. "You won't be long, right? You'll be back soon?" He wrapped his arms around his chest withdrawing into himself and looked up at Al with pleading eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise. It's like I said, I want to be there to remember Rick but I'll be back in an hour or so."

"An hour," Sam agreed softly. He tried to quell the panicky feeling in his chest. "I can do the crossword puzzles while you're gone then time will go by."

"Sounds like a good plan. If you need any help with anything, Bena will be here."

"Yeah. I know." Sam paused. "Can you get me the book, Al?"

"Um, yeah, sure." Al looked around. The room was much neater than when they went to dinner. Knowing the maid had straightened it up from Sam's earlier outburst while they were out; he looked to Verbena, hoping she might have seen the book. "But...ah...I don't know where it is? Do you?"

Verbena walked over to the armoire that held the TV and pulled it off the top of it. "Are you looking for this one?" she asked handing it to Al.

"Yeah...that's the one," Al said. He noticed a pen on the desk. Getting that as well, he handed both to Sam. "Go to town, Kid. Be back soon."

"Thank you." As Al started to walk toward the door, Sam called after him. "Can I have something to drink? I'm thirsty."

Al stopped and turned. He had a feeling, whether consciously or subconsciously, Sam was going to try to hold him in the room with requests and decided to head that off at the pass. Knowing it was difficult for his friend to get around, he turned to Verbena. "Bena? Can you help Sam with a glass of water? I'm going to be late if I don't get going."

Verbena nodded and started toward the bathroom to get a glass of water from the sink. She stopped when Sam spoke again.

"I wanted...I thought..." Sam stumbled over his words. "I wanted a soda," he said softly looking down. "I'll drink water."

Al was about to cave and get the soda the Kid wanted but Verbena spoke up before he could. "You go on, Al. I'll make sure that Sam's taken care of," she told him, seeing the older man's body language change.

"Um, yeah. Sure," Al answered. He moved back over to Sam, rested his hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'll be back soon," he reiterated. "And if your back's still bothering you when I get back, I'll give you a back rub, ok." With that, he left the hotel room.

Verbena reached into her pocket, pulling out some change. "I think the soda machine is next to the elevators. What type of soda do you want, Sam?" she asked her patient who was staring at the closing door.

"No thank you," Sam answered. He didn't take his eyes off the door. When it didn't open a couple of seconds later, he turned to the book of puzzles. Opening it to a random page, he started to fill it out. Al had told him he'd be back in an hour so he'd be back in an hour. He glanced quickly at his watch to see what time it was so he'd know when it was time for Al to be back.

Verbena nodded, watching the man withdraw into the book. It was as she'd seen before. Sam was using indirect actions to manipulate Al. She knew it wasn't from a bad place but until this situation, she'd never seen him use this technique. She wondered if this came from Sam's past. "He'll be back."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed not looking up from the book. After a few minutes passed by in silence, he looked over to Verbena. "Can I have my Bear, please?"

"Your bear?" She questioned, trying to put the request in some context. "What bear?" A flash of remembrance hit her. "The bear in your room at home? That bear?"

"My Bear," Sam reiterated.

Verbena let out a breath. "I don't have your bear, Sam."

"Is he at home? Mama always let's me bring him when we go away. He's my friend like Al."

She was concerned by his odd request and the sudden almost child-like demeanor Sam had adopted. "Yeah. He's at home." She smiled. "Sounds like he's a good friend."

"Uh huh." Sam turned his attention back to his book once more diligently filling in the small squares. After several minutes had passed in silence, he again looked at his watch. "Fifty minutes," he whispered.

"Fifty minutes?"

"Al said he'd be back in an hour. It's been ten minutes so he'll be back in 50 more." Sam explained his time keeping without looking in Verbena's direction as he kept on with the crossword puzzle he'd picked to do.

"Sam, Al said he'd be back in about an hour. It could be an hour. It could be forty five minutes. It could even be ninety minutes." From past experience, she figured that the latter would be more likely for a memorial.

"He promised," Sam said adamantly. "Al never breaks his promises. He always keeps his promises." He clumsily got to his feet and took a hesitant step in Verbena's direction. "Don't you say he lied, you hear me. Al doesn't lie to me anymore. He promised me he wouldn't lie to me again. Not telling me about you was the last time." He moved back to the chair and sat heavily. "He never breaks his promises," he said once more before dismissing Verbena's presence and once again doing the puzzle

Verbena blinked as Sam explained his thought process. "I wasn't saying Al would lie to you, Sam. Just that I don't believe he understood he was being timed."

"He promised. Go away if you're going to say he lied."

She pulled on the inside of her lower lip with her teeth. Sam was definitely acting even stranger than he had in the past two days she'd been observing him. She finally told him, "You're being unfair to Al."

Sam turned in the chair slightly angling away from Verbena. Humming softly to himself, he continued with the puzzle turning the page to the next one when he'd completed it.

Verbena decided to wait until Al returned before addressing this situation. It was obvious that Sam was pulling away. She just hoped that Al came back within the time limit that Sam had evidently set. The next forty-five minutes went by quietly, Sam working on puzzle after puzzle.

With five minutes to go, Verbena looked over to the door. She wasn't sure which would be better...for Al to be early, on time, or late. The way Sam was acting there was no way to be certain of how he'd react.

"Five more minutes," Sam whispered looking at his watch as he had been doing frequently. "You'll see, he'll be here in 4 minutes," he said knowingly to Verbena. They were the first words he'd spoken to her since dismissing her earlier.

"What if he isn't, Sam?"

"He'll be here," he said confidently. He closed the book, tucking the pen in the page he was on, reached for the crutches and got up, moving over to the bed across from the door. He lowered himself to sit on the foot and expectantly watched the door. He kept looking at his watch counting down the minutes. When the allotted hour had expired and the door didn't open as he expected, he looked over to Verbena, a hurt look on his face. "He lied to me?"

"I don't think he lied to you, Sam. It's like I told you. You've put him on a timetable he didn't know was there."

"But he said. It's 'cause I was bad. I asked him for a soda and he was going to be late. Now he's mad at me." Panic crept into Sam's voice. "What if doesn't come back? How am I going to get home?" His confidence of earlier had been shattered in seconds.

"He'll be back," Verbena said. Devastation shone in the man's eyes. "You're being unreasonable. Can't you see that?"

"I'm not. He promised." As Verbena reached out a comforting hand, Sam pulled away from it. "Don't touch me," he harshly said. The door started to open then and he swung his head around to it. Relief flooded his body when he saw Al walk in but it was quickly replaced by anger. "You're late."

"What?" Al asked, confused, not only by Sam's statement but also by the way he said it. The memorial had been an emotional one. Rick had a lot of friends in town. They had been glad to see Al make it and understood that Sam wasn't able to, not because of lack of caring but because of the physical ordeal he'd been through.

"You're late," Sam repeated with venom in his voice. "You said an hour. You lied to me." He got up from the bed clumsily and hobbled a few steps away from it. "You promised you'd never lie to me again. You broke your promise. You don't care." His voice kept rising in volume as he spoke. Blinded by anger, he spun around and grabbed the bedspread to tug it off again and throw it.

"Stop it, Sam. Stop it right this minute," Al commanded moving in to prevent Sam from the meltdown he was evidently about to engage in once again.

Seeing Al moving toward him, Sam tried to move away but wasn't fast enough as his friend grabbed his arm holding him in place. As soon as he felt the hold, he went limp, falling against the bed before rolling to the floor. "No," he cried fearfully. "Don't hit me anymore! I'll stay still. I'll go to sleep. Don't hit me. It hurts."

Al looked at Sam, shocked by the words, not sure what to make of this rapid change in his behavior. He had let go of Sam's arm when he'd started to show fear. Seeing the kid had worked himself into a state, he knelt down to be on the same level as his frightened friend. He swallowed heavily and gentled his voice. Sam was flashing on what had happened in the tent with Harry. "It's me, Sam. Al…not Harry. I'm not going to hurt you, Sam. You know I'd never hurt you, Kid."

Sam cringed away from the man in front of him. He wasn't seeing his friend any longer but, instead, was seeing the man who had tortured him mentally and, to a lesser extent, physically. "Please don't hit me anymore," he fearfully begged. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I won't do it again."

Seeing Sam's eyes unfocused, Al swallowed. "Kid? Sam?" He turned to Verbena. "What do I do? What can I do? Is he..." He trailed off, not wanting to voice his concern that Sam had gone over the edge.

"Keep talking to him," Verbena suggested. "I can't give him anything right now because he took the muscle relaxant. Just talk to him. Make him feel safe."

Al nodded. "Sam? It's me. It's Al," he tried again. When Sam still cowered away, he turned back to Verbena. "Oh God, he doesn't know me." She encouraged him to talk to Sam again. "Sam, damn it, listen to me. That bastard isn't ever going to hurt you again." Seeing the effect his harsh words had on the frightened man, Al once more gentled his voice. "I swear to you. Come on, Sammy. I can't lose you like this." The last was said almost in pleading.

Sam pulled further and further from the man. He buried his face in his arms not wanting to see him until he heard the pleading and the name only one person other than his mother called him. He chanced a small, quick look and it wasn't a monster that he saw. "Al?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. It's me. You know me, Sammy?" He moved closer. "Ah, Kid....," he breathed out seeing the frightened and lost look in his friend's eyes. He didn't say anything else. He just pulled Sam into a firm hug. "It's going to be all right, Kid. We'll get through this."

"Al," Sam kept repeating as he burrowed as deep into the hug as he could. A small part of him was telling him to let go and to act like the adult he was but the bigger part was just screaming out that he take the comfort being offered and just feel safe. "It was just supposed to be fun, that's all. We were going to have fun. Why did it have to go wrong? Why did he have to kill him? Why did he hate me?" He pulled back from the hug just enough to look up at Al with sorrowful eyes. "Why couldn't we just have fun?"

"I don't know, Kid. But it wasn't our fault. I told you once before, there's some evil people in this world. That's the only reason I can see for him to hate you. Maybe it was that evil faced good and that's why it all happened. I just don't know." He seldom cried. It was something he wouldn't allow himself to do, but at this moment, he couldn't stop himself. The injustice of it all just came pouring out of him.

Sam watched fascinated for just a few seconds as the tears glistened on Al's cheeks. Curiously, he touched one of the wet streaks with his finger. "No, don't," he pleaded when he felt the moisture. "I'm sorry, Al. I'm sorry. Please don't." Tears started to fall from Sam's eyes as well and he pulled closer to his friend again squeezing him with as much strength as he had. "I won't be bad anymore. I promise."

Al tightened his hold on his friend and started to rock him just a little. "You couldn't be bad if you gave it your all, Sam. You have nothing to be sorry about. Nothing." He pulled back intently looking into the eyes of his best friend. "Just stop listening to the garbage he told you, Kid. You've got to know deep down that none of what he said was true. You can believe me. Please believe me, Sammy."

"I believe you." There was a quiet intensity in Sam's voice that matched the look in his friend's eyes. "I wish it would go away. I liked fishing with you before it all got bad."

"We can do that again. We can go fishing. That bastard won't spoil it again."

Sam leaned into his friend just a little more knowing that there was truth behind the words. After a moment he pulled back straightening up. They'd ended up on the floor and his injured leg had been turned at an awkward angle. He hadn't felt it at first, caught up in his emotions and still feeling the effects of the muscle relaxant, but now the sharp, shooting pain was becoming hard to ignore. He winced as the pain seemed to reach for his ankle. "Ow. I need to move my leg."

Al, seeing what had happened, transformed to a helping mode immediately. "Ah geez, Sam." He helped him up. "It's not hurt worse, is it?"

"No. It was just uncomfortable like that." With Al's help, Sam hopped back the couple of steps necessary to get to the bed.

Verbena, having witnessed the healing activity between the two men now moved forward. "Let me check it Sam."

Sam nodded giving his permission. He watched as Verbena removed the brace and pulled the leg of his jeans up. She wasn't able to get it above his knee because of the persistent swelling. "I don't think it's hurt worse. It was just hurting," he explained. The strange behavior from moments before was subsiding quickly.

"Ok, Sam. As long as you don't think it's hurt worse," Verbena answered. She was very concerned by Sam's sudden swings of mood and behaviors. She'd had the opportunity to observe this man and knew that his moods could change but they'd never done so like what she was witnessing. It was almost as if he was going in and out of hallucinogenic episodes but not like she'd ever seen or read about before. This behavior was outside the literature and she wasn't sure why. She knew she'd have to talk with Al later.

Al let out a sigh of relief. "That's good."

The adrenaline rush that had sustained Sam during his outburst of emotion had dissipated leaving him drained. He slumped over to the left leaning against Al who'd also sat on the bed. "Sorry I'm being such a pain,"

Al wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders in a one-armed hug. "You're not a pain. You've been through hell and back." He amended that. "We've both been through hell and back."

Sam leaned gratefully into the support around his shoulders. He was still feeling vulnerable right now. Al seemed to be able to take some of that vulnerability away and set everything right. "Do you mind if I take one of the pain pills and lie down for a little while." He reiterated what he'd said before. "I won't need as much as before."

Verbena nodded. "I was about to suggest that." Sam had been taking two tablets. She went to get him one and a glass of water.

"Sam... I think maybe going to bed might be a better idea." Al looked at the jeans and shirt. "You'd probably feel better if you got into your pjs."

Sam was about to point out that it was still early but he didn't have the energy for it. He decided that if he didn't have the energy for that protest, Al probably had a good idea. "Yeah, ok. I don't know where they are, though."

"I'll get them for you," Al said and then realized he had no idea where things had been put.

"Check the top drawer, Al," Verbena said before bringing over the pill and water. She handled them to Sam and then wished him goodnight, leaving before he got ready for bed.

Al had found the pajamas, handed them to Sam, and took the empty glass from him. "Can we watch TV for a while? I don't think I'm ready to sleep." Sam took off the t-shirt he had on and pulled on the pajama top instead. When he stood up to take off his jeans, he wobbled unsteadily then quickly sat back down.

"Yeah. We can watch TV," Al agreed. Seeing Sam was having some difficulties, he asked, "Need some help?"

"Yeah. I guess I'm a little unsteady right now."

"Understandable, Kid." Al helped him get out of the unwieldy clothing.

Once Sam was in his pajamas, Al helped him into bed. Sam's voice was barely audible as he told his friend, "I think I said some mean things to 'Bena and maybe some other strange stuff." He looked away, not wanting to catch Al's eyes.

Al blinked before answering. "You haven't been yourself, Kid. I'm sure she understands that."

"I asked her for Bear." Sam couldn't hide the embarrassment he felt.

"Bear? Probably better he's back at home," Al said smiling.

"Yeah," Sam said not getting into his thoughts about that, instead going on to how that would be perceived. "She must think I'm nuts although the way I've been carrying on, I probably didn't have to ask for a toy for that to happen. Hell, I'm not sure she wouldn't be right."

Al shook his head. "No. You're not nuts, Sam. Don't say that, Kid."

Sam took in a deep breath. He hoped Al was right. "Still, I owe her an apology. I just..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I just start to feel so afraid when you're not around. I feel like something's going to happen to you if I can't see or hear you. I know that's crazy but once I start feeling that way, I can't seem to stop it."

Then, turning serious, he told his friend, "It's going to take time, Sam. I'll be here, though. You can count on that." He paused, remembering what had started this latest. "What did you mean when you said I was late?"

"Nothing." Sam shook his head slightly. Now that Al was back, his actions during the time his friend was gone really disturbed him. It had started with a strange feeling that had continued to grow while Al was gone only to leave after his most recent…incident. His thoughts amended that remembrance…the feeling was mostly gone but he had the distinct impression it was just under the surface. He was beginning to think that maybe he was going crazy despite what Al said.

"Had to be something, Kid. You can tell me, Sam."

"Well, you just said you'd be back in an hour and you were a couple of minutes late. That's all. I was just being dumb. I should have known it might take you more than an hour and Verbena even told me it might."

Al didn't say anything at first, thinking through what he was hearing. He finally answered, "Sam, it was an estimate of time. You know how that is. You've done it before yourself."

"I...I know, Al." Sam's voice was full of embarrassment and he looked up at the ceiling doing his best to avoid Al's eyes. "I don't know why I was so out of control. It's like I stepped out of myself or something."

Al looked at his friend concerned. "I know I've said it before, Kid, but you've got to let what Harry said go. I'm afraid of where it's taking you." He remembered his promise from earlier. "How's your back feeling."

Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Still sore." He turned toward Al, his famous puppy dog look firmly in place. "I don't suppose you'll forgive my outburst enough to give me that backrub you promised?"

"No problemo, Kid." Al moved over to Sam's bed and had his friend stretch out on his stomach so he could rub his back. Deciding that talking about his plan for the trip back would help Sam he told him, "I've got the flight plan ready to file. We should be out of here by noon tomorrow."

"Mmmhmmm," Sam agreed enjoying the treatment he was getting. "Ahh," he exclaimed suddenly when Al hit a spot where the muscle was tighter.

"Sorry, Sam. You're really tight there. I didn't mean to hurt you." Al responded to his friend's pain.

"'S'ok. Still feels good." Sam nestled his head deeper in the pillow. "Demerol's working. My knee's not hurting so much and 'm gettin' real tired."

"Then you should just let yourself go to sleep." The older man continued to try and relax his friend, wanting him to have an undisturbed sleep.

"I don't want to yet. What if I have dreams again?" Sam's voice had grown softer as the Demerol affected him more and more.

"I'll be here with you, Kid." He considered 'his friend's fear. "You want to have Bena give you a shot of diazepam just to be sure? You didn't complain of dreams last time she gave you that."

"I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want to dream but I want to keep dreaming." With a little sigh, Sam rolled over so he could more easily see Al and pulled his pajama top back in place. A small smile played around his lips. "You'll be here. You do a good job of chasing the boogie man away." His next request came in a barely heard voice. "Can I have the sweatshirt?"

Al smiled. Although he was still a bit concerned about the reliance on the sweatshirt, he was glad it could provide comfort. "Sure, Sam." He retrieved the asked for piece of clothing.

"Thanks." Sam took the sweatshirt and put it down on the bed next to him. He rolled over and pulled it in a ball against his chest. "Can you put the TV on and sit with me for a while just 'til I go to sleep. I don't think it'll be long."

"Ok," Al said simply. The show that was on wasn't a very interesting one and soon he heard the sound of even breathing coming from Sam. "If you have any dreams, Kid, I hope they're pleasant ones," he said quietly, brushing the hair out of Sam's eyes. He got up and moved away, turning off the TV. It was still pretty early but he didn't want the sound of the TV to disturb Sam. Figuring that maybe Verbena was watching something, he went over to the door between their rooms and knocked.

"Come in," Verbena called out looking up from the book she was reading. "Sam asleep?" she asked when Al stood in the doorway.

"Yeah. Sounds like he had a rough night, even before I got back," responded Al. "You mind if I come in? I don't want to disturb him."

"No. Come in." Verbena marked her place in the book and put it down on the table. "I wanted to talk with you anyway. I was just waiting until Sam was settled."

"Oh. Ok." He went into the room, making sure that the door stayed open. He wanted to hear if Sam had any more difficult times.

Verbena studied the man in front of her deciding how best to broach the subject she had in mind. If she didn't meet opposition from him, she'd be surprised. She felt it would be best to plow ahead without sugar coating anything. One thing that Al had very much in common with Sam was that they both had very low BS-meters. "I think we need to talk about Sam and how to make sure he gets all the help he needs."

"He is getting help. That's why I'm here and why I asked you to come to Idaho."

"It's not enough, Al. He needs more help than what we can give him here." She took a deep breath knowing her next statement was likely to light the man's fuse. "I think when we get back to New Mexico it might be best if Sam were treated on an in-patient basis."

Al blinked as he took in what Verbena said. It took him a few moments to respond verbally. "You've got to be kidding me. You want to give him to Weitzman on a silver platter?"

"No," she protested. "How can you think that? Weitzman is the least of my concern right now. Sam is my main concern and I'm not sure I can help him by myself. You didn't see him earlier. It was like he regressed in age. Then there's the paranoia he's been showing signs of, the hallucinations, his emotional outbursts." She looked Al steadily in the eye. "He's also become highly dependent on you and I'm not sure how good that is."

Al's brow furrowed as he heard how difficult things had been. Still, he shook his head. "No. We have to give him time. Sam's pulled through a hell of a lot of things already. We just have to give him time," he repeated.

"I agree. He has been through a hell of a lot but how much time do we give him? He's getting worse." She tried to appeal to the part of Al that would do whatever he could to make sure Sam was kept safe and well. "What if we give him too much time and lose him instead?"

"That's not going to happen," Al said with gruff certainty and with intensity. Sam's own words were pulling on him as well. The older man set his jaw. He just wasn't willing to buy it. Sam wasn't crazy…he just wasn't.

"And just how are you going to stop that from happening," she challenged. "There isn't an enemy you can fight this time. The enemy is his own mind. He's getting lost in it...in his fears and what he remembers that man telling him. How do you plan to fight that when he doesn't even recognize who you are?"

"I don't know but we're not going to lose him and we're not going to put him in a loony bin, Verbena." Before she could say anything else he put up his hand. "You said when we get to New Mexico. Let's just get there before we make any rash decisions. We're leaving tomorrow."

"Fine. We'll wait until we get back to New Mexico but I hope you'll think long and hard about this. I want to help Sam but I also want to do it with your blessing. That will make it easier for him in the long run." At the sound of Sam calling Al's name, she sat back down and picked up the book. "You better go see what he needs."

Al nodded tightly. "Ok." He turned and went to see why Sam was calling. He was sure the Demerol would have had him out longer.

"Al?" Sam questioned. He was sitting up, blinking owlishly in the darkness of the room. "This isn't my bedroom and I forget where the bathroom is.

Al turned on the side light. "Yeah. We're still in the hotel room in Idaho. Bathroom's right over here." He then turned on the light in the bath.

Sam looked quizzically in the direction of the bathroom. "My body's heavy. How do I get there?" He slowly rubbed a hand over his face then forced his eyes open wide. "I'm tired."

"Yeah. Well, you've taken some pretty serious stuff, Kid. Let me help you get there." Al went over to the bed and offered his hand to help the younger man up.

With Al's assistance, Sam made his way to the bathroom. While he took care of the call of nature, Al waited outside the door for him then helped him back to bed. "Just like in Washington," the younger man commented as they completed the trip back to the bed. At the questioning look on his friend's face, he explained, "You used to wait outside the bathroom door so you could help me back to bed. Remember?"

"Yeah, Kid. I remember." Once Sam was back into the bed, he smoothed the covers. Looking at his friend with the information that Verbena had given him a few minutes before, he sighed. "It's going to be ok."

"Uh huh," Sam agreed blearily. He rolled over onto his stomach and wrapped his arms around the pillow. "Promised t'rub my back."

"I already did, but I'll rub it again, Sammy," Al answered softly. He sat on the edge of the bed once more. He figured that anything he could do to get Sam rested would help him find his way back to normalcy quicker. He wasn't going to let Sam Beckett be committed to an asylum if he could help it.

"Dad used to rub my back every night when Mama was in the hospital." He shifted slightly getting more comfortable. His voice was low and sleepy. "She brought Katie home. I wanted a cat."

Al smiled. "I was thrilled when Trudy came home."

"I wanted a cat," Sam reiterated. He opened one eye a slit so he could see Al. "I was gonna call it Kitty but I got a Katie." He giggled slightly at the near rhyme. "I'm gonna sleep now."

"That's a good idea, Sam. Close your eyes and just go to sleep." Al continued to rub Sam's back. This time, he did it softly to lull his friend instead of trying to soothe sore muscles.

"Night," the younger man breathed out before settling into sleep.

Once Sam was asleep, Al quietly got up again and turned. He was surprised to see Verbena standing in the doorway. "How long have you been there?

"I...I just wanted to see that he was ok." Verbena stumbled slightly over her words. When she'd realized she was overhearing what was a private moment, she'd been hoping to back away from the door before either of the men saw her. "I'm sorry. I wasn't spying on either of you."

"I know you're worried about him too. I know you weren't spying. Gave up that suspicion months ago."

The two moved into Verbena's room again so they wouldn't disturb the sleeping man. "At the risk of sounding like I am spying," Verbana asked curiously, "Who's Trudy. I know Sam's sister is Katie but I don't think I've ever heard you mention Trudy."

"You heard that, huh," Al said, rubbing his cheek.

"I did. If you don't want to tell me who it is, that's your business. I was just curious is all."

A few months before, Al wouldn't even have considered telling Verbena what he was about to say. "She was my little sister, Bena. Sam and I have that in common. Both of us were big brothers."

"Were?" Verbena questioned picking up on the past tense. "Did something..." she cut herself off and held up a hand. "No. You don't have to tell me and I shouldn't be prying in your life. Just forget I asked. How's Sam?"

"He's doing better. He was just a little disoriented with the stuff he's been taking. He's getting goofy again."

"Goofy? I take it goofy's a good thing in your book." She noticed the small smile that had flitted across his face when he described Sam's current state of mind.

"Yeah. You know. Sam just gets really goofy when he's taking tranquilizers and pain killers. Says some of the funniest things when he does. I think that's why he got into the Kitty/Katie thing. The memory sure did give him a smile." Al paused. "I think it's a good sign. Maybe he's already replacing the memories of this past week with those happier ones. I think that would help him find his feet again."

"You shouldn't get your hopes up," Verbena cautioned him. "Like you said, he's just taken a painkiller a short while ago so that's going to affect him."

"I know Verbena. I just think that things will be ok. We just gotta give the kid time." Knowing they'd already gone over that, he finished. "We'll see what the next couple of days bring." He nodded to the other room. "You mind watching Sam while I step out for a cigar? I've hardly had a one since we got back from the trip from hell."

"I don't approve of the reason but I'll keep an eye on him while you're out."

"Don't you start too. I get enough of that from Sam," Al said without animosity.

"I've got to try." Verbena waved Al in the direction of the door. "Go on. The sooner you smoke that thing, the sooner you'll be back if he's looking for you."

"Right." He went out the door. "And don't worry, Bena. You'll see. Sam will be ok. Sometimes it just takes a little time for him to bounce back." He went out the door.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Al had woken up early and left before Sam was up saying he had an errand to run. When he'd gotten back about forty-five minutes later, Sam was just waking up, the medicines keeping his friend sleeping longer than normal.

Right after breakfast, the phone rang. True to his word, Detective Hale had the statements ready for Al and Sam to sign. He let them know they'd be free to leave Idaho after signing.

While Sam and Verbena finished packing, Al went down to the desk to check them out of the hotel.

When they left the hotel, they went straight to the police station where they took care of putting their signatures to the words they'd told the police the day before. Picking up the rest of their possessions, they went to the airport.

Sam wanted to see Farkel once more but Al said they needed to get going. A storm was predicted to be coming in and he wanted to get a head start on it. Otherwise they might have to stay in Idaho for a few more days. That was enough for Sam to acquiesce without an argument.

Al didn't say anything to Sam but based on what Verbena had said the night before, he wanted to get Sam away from Idaho and the memories of the previous week. He filed the flight plan and was finishing the final preparations before they could take off. He suggested Sam and Verbena stay in the terminal while he completed everything.

Verbena was reading a magazine while Al was finishing up. She noticed that Sam was rather on edge. Putting the magazine to the side she pointed out, "You know, we can take a commercial flight if you want."

"No." Sam shook his head slightly. Reaching for the crutches, he got up and paced as best he could. "I just want to get home so I've got to do this." He stopped his pacing and sat across from Verbena again. "I just don't want to lose my breakfast in the process."

"Well, I can give you something for that. Should make it easier for you and you won't likely lose your breakfast."

"I had some Dramamine but I don't know where it went." He stopped his pacing and resumed his seat again. "Yeah, I guess it might help if you give me something but let's wait 'til we're on the plane. I don't want to start walking into walls here."

She considered what she had with her. "You could just continue using the diazepam."

"Yeah. That's fine. I'd still rather wait 'til we're on the plane. It always works so fast so if I take it now, Al will have to carry me on."

"I'm ok with that." She paused. "How's your leg?"

Sam glanced down to his braced leg. He hadn't given it much thought the last couple of hours other than the nuisance that it was. "A little sore but not too bad." He reached around rubbing his lower back. "I really must have pulled something in my back, though, 'cause it's been bothering me a lot today."

"Well, I think the diazepam will help with that as well. It's not like you're going to be running a marathon on the plane. If you're relaxed, your back should be fine."

"Yeah, ok." Sam looked in the direction Al had gone. "You think it's going to take much longer for Al to finish? I just want to get going."

"I'm sure he's pulling things together as fast as he can. You don't want him to take any shortcuts, do you?"

"No," Sam quickly responded thinking about what the consequences of that could be. "Definitely not."

Almost as if having been summoned by Sam's request, Al walked into the waiting room. "Everything's set. I've got our stuff loaded and we've been given the go ahead to take off." He looked over to Sam.

"Let's get going then." Sam reached for the crutches and the three went out to board the plane. Once Sam was settled in his seat, Verbena gave him the diazepam with a bottle of water.

Al, focused on getting the plane off the ground and into air, didn't talk much. He knew Sam was probably sitting back with his eyes closed in any case. This was the first time for him to have Verbena with him, though. Once up in the air and on their way he was able to ask, "You two doing ok?"

"Mmmmhmmmm. I'm floating," Sam replied then started to laugh softly. "I'm floating in a plane."

Al's head snapped over to Sam. Seeing him almost rag doll relaxed he turned then to Verbena. "What did you give him?"

"I gave him diazepam. The same amount he's taken before." She eyed Sam in concern from where she was sitting. "Can I unbuckle so I can check him?"

"Yeah, sure, but make it quick."

Verbena released the seatbelt and moved so that she was crouched over Sam. She picked up his wrist checking his pulse rate.

"We gonna hold hands?" Sam glanced over to Al. "I'm relaxed. Sooo relaxed."

Letting go of Sam's wrist, Verbena moved back to her seat. "You're relaxed all right, Sam." She directed her next words to Al. "He's ok if a bit loopy right now. I guess this is what you mean about him getting goofy."

"Yeah. He tends to be a happy drunk too when he allows himself to get to that condition," Al said smiling.

"Well, I think it's best if we just leave him be right now. If he's happy and relaxed, that'll only make the trip easier for him."

Sam was studying Al intently ignoring the conversation around him. "How come you never taught me how to fly a plane? I bet I could."

Al laughed. "Every time you get into a plane you're either scared or drugged. No can do with the flight school under those conditions, Kid."

"So I can't fly 'cause I'm scared. That's discriminatory." He looked back at Verbena for her input. "Ain't it discriminatory if they don't let people who are afraid fly?"

"They don't allow people to fly for other reasons too, Sam. I think the Admiral has a point."

"You like him better," Sam pouted. "I'm gonna go to sleep." He made the declaration as if it were meant to punish his two friends.

"Ok, Sam. You do that." Al chuckled. "We've got awhile before refueling."

Sam made good his threat and Al and Verbena were occasionally treated to his snoring. The two occasionally talked but mostly stayed within their own thoughts. That was one of the reasons Al enjoyed flying so much. It was a place he felt good even when he was alone.

As they approached Centennial airport in Colorado, Al spoke up. "We'll be landing soon for the refuel. Think you can check Sam to make sure he's buckled in well?"

"Sure." Verbena released her buckle so she could get closer to Sam and check. Once she was assured that he was buckled in tightly, she returned to her seat. "He's all set." A particularly loud snore escaped the sleeping man. "I'm not sure if I want him to sleep through the landing or if I want to wake him up."

"As relaxed as Sam is, it probably wouldn't bother him to land. Normally, though, it's not a pretty picture."

"He's never really talked much about why it bothers him so much - just that the plane the two of you were on crashed a few years ago. I've assumed before that it didn't really bother him."

"I think it has something to do with his fear of heights. He's been afraid of flying as long as I've known him and from what I've heard his mother say, it's been most of his life."

Right after he finished, the radio came to life, giving Al instructions as to landing in answer to his hail a few minutes before. He was going to have to circle a few times before he could land.

Giving his ok, Al looked at Verbena. "We have about 30 more minutes in the air, maybe a bit longer." As he gave her the update, Sam let out another snore. "He's really sawing logs today."

"Does he do this every time he sleeps? How did you get any sleep last night?"

"Not quite every time and I've been told by four of my five wives that I'm not the quietest sleeper either."

"I think quiet can be a relative term." She looked quickly in Sam's direction as his snoring gave way to grinding his teeth. "If this is normal for him, I pity anyone who shares a bed with him."

"Oh, Sam's not too bad. Some of the men on the ship were much worse." He paused. "The thing about Sam you got to watch out for when you're sharing a bed with him is how he flails about. I figure the seatbelt's preventing too much of that."

Verbena looked at Al in surprise when he mentioned sharing a bed with Sam. "Forgive the assumption, Al, but you don't strike me as the type who'd be comfortable sharing a bed with another man."

Al chuckled. "And you'd be right in thinking that. I much prefer to have a bed by myself if I'm not accompanied by the fairer sex. However, there have been a few times when there hasn't been a choice and a few conditions when survival dictated taking it as a prudent approach." He looked over to his friend, "but with Sam...sometimes you get a black eye or worse."

Verbena just couldn't let that little bit of information go - not without teasing her friend just a little. "Should I interpret that as meaning you don't duck very well when you're sleeping?"

Al narrowed his eyes at her. "Um...that would be no. Most of the time I have no need to duck."

Holding up her hands defensively, Verbena laughed lightly. "I was just asking. You're the one who brought it up. I am curious where you came by that information, though." She eyed Sam who was blissfully sleeping unaware how he figured into their conversation. She couldn't quite help a twinge of guilt at the thought that it would probably embarrass him at least a little.

"The black eyes? Fortunately I've never gotten one but Sam's brother had. His mother told me about that."

"I'm sure he enjoyed that."

"I sincerely doubt it."

Verbena laughed lightly. "I guess we should just let him sleep until we land and then wake him up."

"Works for me," Al said with a smile. A loud snore seemed to be Sam's statement that he agreed.

"Just one thing – when we land, you get the honor of waking him up."

"Coward," Al said. His voice showed he was just bantering with her.

"No, I'm not being a coward." Verbena's earlier humor faded a bit. "I just think it'll be easier for him if it's you waking him - less stressful."

"Ok, I can do that." A snore escaped the man in question. "He seems to catching up on his sleep. He's sure needed it."

"He did. I hope it's all he really needs." Verbena didn't sound sure still not convinced that Sam didn't need more care than she could provide.

"You'll see, 'Bena. Sam will snap back. He always does."

"I wouldn't be so sure this time, Al. There's only so much the mind can take but that's all I'm going to say right now." She didn't want to take a chance on Sam overhearing them. She knew that would only make things much worse. She didn't have to worry as he shifted position slightly and let out another snore.

"Yeah...but..." Al trailed off when he saw Verbena's look towards, Sam. "I get 'cha. Later." He received the go ahead to land. "Besides, gotta keep my focus on the landing anyways. I'd tell you to put up your tray tables but since we don't have any..." This time he trailed off with a smile.

Al was true to his word and focused on getting the plane down onto his assigned runway. Once on the ground he taxied the plane to the terminal where he'd be able to refuel.

He pulled the plane to a stop where the ground team indicated. Unbuckling himself, he turned to Sam, still asleep in his seat. Shaking him gently he asked in a gentle voice. "Hey, Sam. We're on the ground for an hour or so. Since we still have a fairly long second leg, I think it would be good to stretch your legs."

"Ok, Dad. I'll milk the cows," Sam mumbled sleepily. He hadn't opened his eyes yet.

Al chuckled. This wasn't the first time that Sam had mentioned cows when being woken from a deep sleep. "No cows to milk, Kid."

Sam let out an irritated sigh, turned his head in Al's direction and cracked his eyes open. "We there?" His voice was tinged with sleep.

"We're at the refuel point, Sam. You wouldn't want me to run out of fuel in the air."

"Um, no." Sam blinked a few times looking around the cockpit and out the front window. "Can I use the restroom?"

"Yeah. Like I said, we have about an hour on the ground."

This time when Sam looked around, it was with purpose. "Where do I go?" Unlike a commercial airliner, there was no skyway being rolled up to the plan for them to deplane through.

"Well, there's the terminal. Just need to open the door and..." Noticing Sam might still be a little groggy, Al amended. "Just stay there. I'll come around and help you out. Last thing you need is to slip getting out of the plane and screw your leg up some more."

"Ok. Can we get something to eat too, while they're fueling the plane?"

"Sure. That's actually a good idea since it will be awhile until we get home. We have snacks on the plane but a good hot meal would be better."

Verbena waited until Al had helped Sam before following the two men. "Should Sam and I meet you in the terminal?"

"Sure. I've just got to get the fueling started. I'll be in the lobby in about five minutes." He went into the operations office of the small airport.

"I'll go with you," Sam called as he followed Al as quickly as he could to the operations office. "I'll stay with you," he repeated as he caught up with Al.

"I thought you needed to use the restroom, Kid," Al said as Sam followed him in. "I'm just going to make sure that the plane gets fueled and then I'm going into the lobby." He smiled, knowing that Sam was still being somewhat clingy. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know. I was just curious." Sam attempted a smile to put his friend at ease. "I never saw how any of this happens. That's all."

"Ok. Not really all that interesting." He went to the desk and followed the protocols necessary to get things moving. It was a simple transaction and as he'd told Sam, it was over in about five minutes. Finished he went into the lobby.

"I'll be right out," Sam said as he walked over to where the restrooms were.

"Are you still convinced he doesn't need any help?" Verbena asked once the door to the men's room was closed.

"What are you talking about?" Al asked, somewhat surprised by Verbena's words. "Sam's doing ok."

"He practically ran after you just now. If he seems like he's been doing ok, it's probably because he's been sleeping the whole flight. What are you going to do if he keeps following after you like that?"

"Verbena, you're reading too much into that. Sam was just interested in how the plane will get refueled. He probably thought it would be more interesting than what it was." Al had wondered why that would be since he'd never shown even a passing interest in the topic before but understood that sometimes his friend's interest was just peaked at the strangest things. He wasn't going to buy Verbena's concern now though.

"Is that really something that he'd be interested in or are you just trying to convince yourself of that?"

Al broke eye contact and looked away. "I don't see why you're making this into something more than it is, that's all." He nodded to the restroom where his friend currently was. "He went there on his own, didn't he? Why don't we just give him some time? We're getting further and further away from Idaho and that nightmare. It's going to be all right."

"I..." Verbena cut herself off before should could say what she wanted when she saw the men's room door start to open. She didn't want to chance Sam overhearing something that would set him off. "We'll talk about this later."

Al didn't catch Verbena's attitude change fast enough. "Besides, I have some plans up my sleeve to assure that things go better for him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Verbena questioned when she saw it wasn't Sam coming out. "What have you done?"

"Well," Al said rubbing his neck. "We told you about Farkel, right?"

"The horse. What about it?" Verbena prompted. "What's a horse got to do with any of this?"

"I bought Farkel for Sam," Al stated bluntly.

"You what?" Verbena wasn't sure she heard the man right and couldn't conceive of a reason why he'd think buying a horse would be a good idea. "You're pulling my leg aren't you?"

Al shook his head. "No. I'm completely serious. That was my errand this morning. I was signing the papers."

"A horse. You bought him a horse." Verbena asked, incredulously.

"Yeah," Al stated and then started to justify his actions. "Well, I think it's the just what he needs. But I don't want to tell him until after we get back. It'll take about a week 'til the horse arrives in New Mexico."

"When I told you to follow your gut instinct where Sam was concerned, buying a horse was not what I had in mind." Verbena pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long breath to compose herself. "Ok, I won't tell him but I hope you understand this probably isn't going to be the miracle you want it to be."

"Thank you," Al answered. "You'll see, though. It is exactly what he needs."

"What's 'what he needs?'" Sam questioned as he came up unexpected behind Al.

Al spun around at Sam's voice. "Sam!" He blinked a couple of times. "Um...I was just telling Verbena, you know, that getting back home is exactly what you need."

"Oh." Sam's eyes narrowed as he eyed his friend suspiciously. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed although he had a feeling that wasn't what Al had been talking about. He just didn't feel up to prying whatever the real subject was out of Al right now. Instead, he looked around and asked, "Is there someplace where we can get something to eat. I feel like some junk food."

"There's a little lunch counter. We could get some burgers and fries."

"Burgers sound good. Lead on."

Verbena watched the two men again. She'd seen the two of them enough to know that Sam wasn't fully buying what Al was selling but he wasn't pushing back either. Realizing that there really wasn't anything that could be done about the horse for now, she shrugged. "Ok, but I'm hoping they have something a little healthier. Girl's got to watch her figure, you know."

As Al's mouth started to open to respond, Sam gently swung one of the crutches, catching him in the ankle. "Don't even say what you were thinking," he admonished his friend when he looked over at him questioningly.

Al shrugged off Sam's statement with a cool, "I was just going to say that she had nothing to worry about in that department." The three of them went into the small diner-like restaurant. Putting in their orders - burgers for the men and a bowl of vegetable soup for Verbena - they sat at the counter. Al had ordered a cup of coffee as well.

They ate in silence for a few minutes until Sam endeavored to break the silence with something close to normal. "Do you know if Tina was able to go by my place and feed George and Gertrude?"

"Tina promised that she'd feed them and pick up the mail at both of our places. I'm sure she has." With all the things that had been happening, Al realized he hadn't really thought much about the project. His last phone call there had been to ask Verbena to come to Idaho.

"I know it's just that we've been gone longer than we were supposed to be...at least I think we have." Sam's forehead scrunched up as he tried to figure out just how long ago it was that they'd left New Mexico for their vacation. "I...I don't remember how long we've been gone." His slightly panicked look fell on Al. "I don't know what today is."

"It's only been ten days, Sam. We're only two days later than we were supposed to be coming home. It's Monday."

"That's all? Feels like it's been longer." Sam put down the remainder of his hamburger and grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wiped his hands off. "Feels like I haven't been home in a month. When we get home, can I...can I stay there for a few days before we go back to the project?" He toyed with the straw in his soda. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for that yet...for people knowing what happened and saying...stuff."

Verbena put her hand out and put it on Sam's shoulder. "I think that's a good idea. Give you a few days to ease back into things."

Al looked over to Verbena before smiling and nodding to Sam. "Yeah, Kid. 'Bena's right. A few days and you'll be right as rain."

"Yeah...besides, I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Stone about my knee." He looked at the offending joint in disgust. "I really hope he doesn't want to do any surgery. I think I've seen my quota of the inside of a hospital for this year."

"You can say that again, Sam. Although, the last time you weren't in the hospital that much." As soon as he said it, Al regretted it. What was he thinking, reminding Sam about the trip to LA.?

Sam took another sip from the cup of soda then put it down and pushed the plate with the rest of his food away from him. "Do you think they're done refueling?" he asked abruptly. "I really want to go home and sleep in my own bed tonight."

"Um...yeah. Probably." Al was kicking himself mentally. "I'll go check, Kid." He got up quickly and moved towards the door.

"Al, wait," Sam called out to his friend's retreating back. "Finish your lunch. I didn't mean you had to get up and check right now." He shrugged slightly. "I was just wondering, that's all."

Verbena put her hand out and covered Sam's as Al continued through the door. She'd seen the look cross the older man's face as Sam had pushed his food away. "It's ok, Sam. I think Al's just trying to work through all of this too."

"Not alone. He shouldn't have to do that alone. He's always there for me." Sam grabbed the crutches and got up to chase after his friend. "Maybe it's time I start to return the favor."

She let out a small sigh as both of the men left the table. When Sarah had told her that this job would be one of the most interesting she ever took, she'd thought she was just giving her the standard recruiting speech. Now she understood there was more truth to that than not. Both of these men were complex people and together, well... She took a final bite of her soup and then caught the waitress's eye. "Check?"


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

It hadn't taken too long for the group to get back into the air. Sam had accepted a smaller dose of the diazepam when they were in the air and again, he slept through most of the trip. Several hours later, they had reached the Socorro Municipal Airport and were cleared for landing.

Landing without incident, Al placed 'Bena's luggage into the truck of her car which she'd made sure would be at the small field when Al landed. Sam's and his luggage, though, he put into the Jeep Sam had left ten days earlier. Although he hadn't spent much time at Sam's place prior to this trip for the last few months, he knew that was where he was going to stay tonight. Besides, Sam was in no condition to drive since he was still feeling the effects of the diazepam when they landed.

After saying goodbye to Verbena, Al drove to Sam's house. "Home sweet home, Kid," he said as he pulled into the driveway.

Sam roused himself from where he'd been drowsing against the car window. "It's good to be home."

"Yeah. Best place to get things back to normal."

"Will it ever be normal?" Sam's voice was just above a whisper. He wasn't sure if he wanted his friend to answer the question or not.

Al looked over at his friend, his heart hurting for him. "Yeah, Sam. It will. We just got to give it some time."

"Time? Yeah, time. Funny how it always comes back to that."

Al let out a breath. "Yeah. That's true," he started, "but we can't expect things to just go Pollyanna because we want them too. That would be like sticking our heads in the sand."

"Might not be a bad idea sometimes." Sam offered Al one of his crooked grins. "Might be safer."

"Yeah. Might be at that," Al answered back. "Now come on, let's get you inside. How are you feeling?"

"Kind of tired, but not too bad. It was a long flight." Sam waited patiently while Al exited the car and came around to the passenger side to help him out. "I'm looking forward to just crashing on the couch for a while," he said as he balanced on the crutches that were handed to him.

"Ok, Kid. Go on inside. I'll get our luggage."

Sam made his way slowly into the house. Before going into the living room, he stopped off in the kitchen. In a water-filled bowl on the island his two fish were swimming happily. "Hi George. Hi Gertrude." He picked up the bottle of fish food and sprinkled a little into the bowl and watched the two fish hungrily eat it. "You guys miss me?" He sighed and sat on one of the stools. "You probably don't even remember me. I envy you sometimes."

Al was walking in with the first items. "You envy fish?"

"Yeah. They've got, what, a three second memory? They don't remember the bad stuff."

"Yeah, but they don't remember the good stuff either. Like when we learned we had the funding for the project. Or the day we started laying the first cable." He paused. "It hasn't all been bad, Sam."

"Or when Katie was married or I held my niece for the first time. Yeah, I wouldn't want to forget that stuff." Sam looked over his shoulder where Al stood behind him, pain visible in his eyes. "There's still stuff I wish I didn't have to remember. Like when they told us about Tom or...or what happened now."

Al let out a breath. "Yeah. But would it be any better? Sure, if I didn't know Trudy was gone, I'd want to see her. And the concept of not remembering her at all? Well, I'll take the pain."

Sam turned around on the stool so he was facing Al. His shoulders were slumped. "I'm tired of pain, Al. I'm tired of everything spiraling out of control. I'd just like a month; just one month where nothing went wrong and it didn't feel like someone was punching me in the gut." He briefly looked up meeting his friends eyes and then down again. "I don't think that's asking for a lot."

Al put his hand out to Sam's shoulder. "No. It's asking for darn little. You know I'll do anything to give you that month and longer."

Leaning into the solid comfort of Al's hand, Sam continued speaking. "I just feel like I'm being punished for something I did or I keep doing but don't know what it is so I can't change it." Again, he looked sorrowfully up at his friend. "What could I have done that was so bad that I keep getting punished like this?" He quickly corrected himself. "Us, what did we do? You're always there with me."

"I don't know, Sam. I don't understand why it keeps happening." Al took a breath. "I think sometimes it's just being born under an unlucky star."

Feeling that he was losing control of his emotions again, Sam looked up to the ceiling drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He was determined he was not going to go off again. He'd been losing control too much and he didn't like the feeling. Each time, it felt like the rational part of him stepped outside and watched as the illogical part of him took over. Chances were, if he lost control right now, poor George and Gertrude would pay the price. "I'm just tired," he forced out in a raw voice.

"Then do what you planned. Go on in the living room and stretch out on the sofa."

"Yeah, I guess that's a good idea." Slowly Sam got up from the stool and grabbed the crutches. Instead of moving away to the living room, he took a couple of steps putting himself in Al's personal space and balancing on one of the crutches, awkwardly reached over to Al and pulled him into a hug needing the comfort of another human.. "This is one of those times I just wish I were a little boy again and Dad could come in and chase the monsters from under my bed."

When Al had first met Sam, he'd been somewhat taken aback when he found the Kid was a hugger. He hadn't said anything about it at the time though as he didn't know how to broach the issue when he owed Sam so much. After all, the man had put everything on the line to help his sorry, drunken ass. Over time, though, as he'd gotten to know Sam better, he'd simply accepted the fact that the physicist would initiate a hug when he felt he or the other person needed one. Now, it had become second nature to him to hug back when they happened. He did so now, wanting to provide his friend with the comfort he knew it would engender. "Ah, Kid. I know that there's a space in your heart that only your father can fill. I don't want to take that away from you. It's too sacred. I'll do whatever I can to keep the monsters at bay. You know I'm here for you."

"I don't think you'd appreciate me sitting in your lap in a rocking chair while you read to me." Sam did his best to make a joke. "That's what Dad used to do. Right now, though, I…um…just need the hug," he stammered out, showing a non-typical embarrassment in the action. Somehow, his wanting a hug just played into Harry's characterization of weakness but Sam didn't know any other way to stop the hurt he felt..

"Yeah. I'm glad I can give you one," Al answered, giving his friend an even deeper filial embrace to show that he didn't see the hug the same way that Sam was now interpreting it. His heart ached that Sam's need for this small comfort had been tarnished, likely by Harry's attitude and words.

At Al's actions, Sam leaned further into the embrace but was hampered from returning more than he already had because of the crutches. "Thank you," he said shyly as he stepped back after a few seconds. "I'm...uh...I'm going to go in the living room now." He tried to hurry from the room to escape what could be an awkward moment. "Maybe we can order pizza for dinner?"

"I was thinking I'd cook something. Maybe even Ruthie's Beef Stew."

"My favorite," Sam said as the shy smile flashed across his face again. "You're serious about those monsters, aren't you?"

"Couldn't be more so," Al replied with a small smile.

"Thanks, Al. I'm just gonna go watch some TV or something now, ok?"

After Sam left the room, Al looked into his refrigerator, giving a sigh. Although he'd spent the three nights before they'd left at Sam's he hadn't really looked into the fridge . Now there were a number of takeout boxes that looked more like lab experiments. Fortunately the freezer did hold some stew meat and there were enough good vegetables to make the stew. Al worked at getting the kitchen back in order and getting the stew ready to simmer on the stove. When he was finished, he fixed some tea, figuring Sam would probably like some. Taking it and some packaged cookies on a tray out to the living room, he found Sam watching one of his favorite reruns on the TV.

Sam seemed to be enjoying it greatly and for the first time since his and Verbena's talk, he was sure that he was right. All Sam needed was familiar surroundings. It was going to be ok. "I brought you some tea, Kid."

"Tea sounds great." Sam wiped the laughter induced tears from the corners of his eyes and reached for the mug held out to him. "Looks like they're going to show a bunch of episodes of _Lucy_. I like when they do that. You wanna watch some with me?"

"Yeah. For a little while." He put the tray on the coffee table and then sat down himself. "She was a real master of comedy."

"That she was." Sam leaned over to take some of the cookies from the tray. "I like watching this. When I do, I can forget about everything bad and just laugh."

"Well, then I think you should indulge. Not much else to do at the moment anyways."

"Not much to do?" Sam looked sideways at Al as he nibbled on the cookie. "We've been gone for a week. I bet you need shovel to find my desk there'll be so much paper on it."

"That can wait for a few days, Sam."

"A few days? That soon?" Seeing the surprised look on Al's face, Sam huffed out a small laugh. "I'd rather all the paperwork wait until forever before I have to deal with it. You know how much I hate it. I wish I could just do my work without all of that stuff. I don't see why they need my signature on so many things. I thought that's what you were for - to make sure it all runs smoothly."

"We're partners Sam, but you're still the one that's heading the project. Trust me; you don't see half of what I do take care of. The relatively small amount you do see is what's critical.

"Critical? Two days before we left, I had a memo on my desk because the..." Sam closed his eyes as we recalled the exact wording of the memo he'd received, "the toilet tissue in the men's room wasn't soft and excessive use could cause irritation." He opened his eyes and looked over to Al. "Unless I'm Mr. Whipple, I'm not really sure how that was critical."

"That one must have slipped past Allison. She's supposed to send those to me."

"It was an envelope marked 'private and confidential.' I've told her to make sure all of those go to me unopened since it might contain sensitive information." Sam paused a moment then continued. "You know, I think it came from the same guy who sent me the memo complaining that they didn't serve prune juice enough in the cafeteria. I guess I can see how the softer toilet tissue could come in handy if you drink a lot of that." He was quiet again for just a couple of seconds before his laugh rang out again as he thought about the connection between the two requests.

"Oh. You must be talking about Bradley Cavendare. He sent me a few of those in the past and I guess he didn't appreciate my answer that we weren't going to stock the cafeteria based on one person's input." He paused. "Although I guess that's not quite true. We did start putting in the Poptarts based on the fact you wanted them."

"I'm not the only one who eats the Poptarts," Sam said on the defensive. "I've seen you eat your fair share of them, too. Besides, I didn't say to stock the cafeteria with them. I just said I was going to pick some up to keep in my quarters next time I went grocery shopping, that's all."

"Anyways, I'll have a talk with Bradley and nip this in the bud. You should have told me about that sooner, Sam."

"Why? It's just a couple of nonsense memos. I just hate all the other papers that get sent my way as well." Sam breathed a deep sigh. "Let's face it; I was not cut out to do administrative work."

"That why you have Allison to help you, Kid." They were quiet for a moment. "You have any other stuff that's getting to you that shouldn't?"

"Can you do anything about the stuff that comes from Weitzman?" Sam arched his back reaching behind to rub it. "Do you know where my meds went? That muscle I pulled in my back's really starting to bother me."

"Yeah. I'll get those for you." He got up and started to the kitchen where he'd put Sam's meds. As he walked to the door he continued their conversation. "Unfortunately, Weitzman is just a thorn in our side that we'll have to manage. Since he's the chair of the committee that funds us, you're going to have to keep working on those papers." Leaving the room he retrieved the medicine as well as a glass of water. Coming back in, he handed both to Sam. "Here you go, Kid."

"Thanks." Sam took one of the pills and drained the glass of water. "I don't remember my back bothering me this much the last time I had to use crutches. I really hope once I see Dr. Stone he'll tell me I can get rid of them and just use a brace or something."

"I hope your wish comes true. Crutches are the pits."

"You can say that again." Sam leaned over to put the half-empty mug of tea on the table before grabbing one of the throw pillows and putting it under his head as he stretched out on the couch making himself comfortable. _I Love Lucy_ had just ended and now an episode of _Leave It To Beaver_ was starting. Looked like it was going to be an afternoon of old sitcoms and that suited him just fine. It was easy to get lost in them and just remember an easier time, a simpler time when he was a kid and his parents would take care of everything. Well, he might not have had his parents here to take care of things this time but he did have Al and he'd proved more than once that he was a good substitute.

QLQLQLQLQLQL

_It was happening again only this time, there wasn't anything he could do about it. This time instead of Harry just telling him that Al was dead, he watched as his bound friend was made to kneel down and the gun was put to his head. He looked away. Coward that he was, he didn't want to see it happen. As the shot rang out, he screamed out his friend's name._

Al heard his name called out but it was the way it was called that bothered him. The anguish in the sound was palpable. He grabbed his robe and ran to Sam's room. He burst in and found the younger man sitting up, his eyes unfocused. "What is it, Kid? What's the matter?"

Sam's eyes darted around the room, never stopping at one point for very long. "I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry," he chanted. "It should have been me."

Moving over to the bed, Al asked, "What are you talking about, Sam. You don't have anything to be sorry about."

Staring up at the man in his room with wide eyes, Sam whispered, "You're a ghost and you're haunting me because I was a coward. I didn't save you."

Al's heart fell as he heard Sam's explanation. Harry's words were still haunting his friend. "No. I'm very much alive and plan to stay that way, Kid." He sat down on the side on the bed. "You're still dreaming. You need to wake up."

The weight that made the bed dip down caught Sam's attention. Ghosts didn't weigh anything and wouldn't be able to do that. Hesitantly, he put his hand out expecting that it would pass through the apparition of his friend. He pulled it back in surprise when, instead, it encountered solid flesh. "You're real?" he asked in confusion. The dream still hadn't fully let him go.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm real. You're just having a nightmare."

"Real? Another nightmare?" Sam voice was shaky and he started to sag back only to be caught by Al's grip on his shoulders. "Not again."

Al looked at the haunted eyes of his friend. "Ah geez, Sam. You gotta let this go. It's going to drive you nuts if you keep dwelling on his words. They just weren't true. You know I'm right."

"Stop saying that. You keep saying that." Sam pushed away from Al, moving to the other side of the bed away from his friend. "I'm not stupid and I'm not crazy so stop saying that."

"I know you're not crazy, Sam," Al agreed readily. "But I know what post-traumatic stress can do to a person. These dreams are a symptom of that. The replaying over and over of the events in your mind." He paused.

"Just stop saying it," Sam repeated in a half-pleading tone. "You're supposed to make it go away. You said. You promised to make the monsters go away." He looked away. "They're changing too. The nightmares I mean. It getting to where I feel like I am not sure of any of it anymore."

"Ah, Kid," Al answered, sympathetically. "You're just trying to get it all figured out. I know that the nightmares are bad and I want to make them go away, but I'm just not sure how. I don't think you want to take my approach to dealing with them.

"But you promised," Sam said brokenly. Convinced that Al couldn't or wouldn't help him, he lay down, curled up in a near fetal position facing away from Al. "Can I have the sweatshirt?" he asked in a small voice.

The older man took a deep breath. If that would get his friend through this, he'd give him fifty sweatshirts. "Sure, Sam." He went out to the laundry room where he'd left their dirty clothes. Picking up the sweatshirt, he shook his head. Maybe this would do the trick. "Here you go, Kid," he said walking into the room. He held out the requested shirt.

Sam reached out for the sweatshirt and bunched it up under the covers against his chest. "Thank you." He turned his head enough to see where Al was standing watching him. "I don't feel so good, Al. Kinda yucky. Maybe that's why it happened."

Al moved over to Sam and put his hand on the younger man's forehead. "You're not running a fever. You hurting anywhere?"

"No. I just feel..." Sam trailed off and shrugged then continued, "...yucky. Can I have some water?"

"Yeah." Al turned around to return to the kitchen and get the requested liquid. Sam was probably right. He was likely coming down with something and that's why he was having a hard time brushing this off. Retrieving the water, he returned to the room again.

Sam sat up to take the glass of water offered to him. He kept the sweatshirt bunched up in his lap while he drank. After he handed the empty glass back, he lay down again. This time he curled loosely on his side facing his friend. "Will you stay here 'til I fall asleep?"

"You know I will."

Sam pushed over on the bed so that he was further from the edge. "Make room for you." For the moment, he recalled the feeling when he was little and he'd crawl into bed with his parents, knowing he was safe. He just wanted to feel safe again.

"Ok, Kid." Al put the empty glass down on the end table and then sat on the side of the bed, straightening the covers a bit, thinking of how Trudy sometimes needed him there when she was frightened. "Now just close your eyes and think of something peaceful like...like..." He tried to think of something that might take ''Sam's mind as far away from the event in Idaho as possible. "like those corn fields that you told me you used to sit and think in."

When he'd pushed to the other side of the bed, Sam had expected Al to lay on the empty side, not just sit there. "No," he disagreed. "Can't you stay here like in the cabin?" Pink tinged his cheeks in embarrassment, and he tried to explain what he was asking for. "When I was little and scared sometimes just having my parents beside me helped me to sleep. When I close my eyes and you're there, I can imagine that again." He paused, accepting for the moment that he was weak and wanting to draw from Al's strength. "I just don't want to be alone. I'm afraid to be alone 'cause then the nightmares come. Please don't leave me alone."

Al was somewhat surprised by the request. It was almost as if Sam had regressed. He wasn't sure but this didn't seem to be the way to go, allowing Sam to retreat into childhood memories. Still, he wanted to give Sam the comfort he needed to get through the night. He knew the kind of terrors that dreams could entail. "You won't be alone. I'll be right here and I'll stay right here. I know you're just wanting to feel safe. Let's see if that'll be enough."

"Ok," Sam agreed disappointed. He hugged the sweatshirt tighter to his chest. "Just don't wanna be alone."

Al nodded. "You won't be." He figured tonight he'd sleep in one of the armchairs in Sam's room. "Now go on back to sleep."

Nodding his head slightly, Sam settled down to sleep. He kept the sweatshirt pressed against his chest with one hand and the other snuck out of the blanket to rest on Al's leg anchoring him to his friend's solid, safe presence.

Waiting until he heard his friend's soft snores, Al tried to get up but Sam jerked in his sleep, his hand tightening on Al. "It's ok. I'm still here," Al soothed and Sam went back into his sleep. This scenario played out three times more before Al could pull away. His neck and back were hurting from staying in the same position for so long. He stretched out, feeling the kinks work themselves from his muscles. "I'm going to needs your meds if this keeps up," he mumbled, knowing Sam couldn't hear him from the deep snores that spoke to his exhaustion.

Sam wasn't sure how much time had passed when he next woke. It was still dark in the room so he guessed it was still night. He reached his hand out to where Al had last been but only encountered the empty bed. "Al?" he called out in a panic sure that his friend's presence had been the dream and not his death.

Having pulled one of Sam's armchair's over to the bed Al was in the midst of his own sleep. Still, when Sam called him, he was instantly awake. "I'm here, Kid. Right beside you." He took his friend's hand. "I told you, you won't be alone."

"Al the Monster Killer," Sam sleepily said. As soon as he heard his friend's voice and felt his touch he was immediately reassured that everything was all right - or as all right as it could get. Already, he was drifting back to sleep.

Brushing the hair away from Sam's face he smiled. "Yeah. Sir Al will keep his vigil."

"Ok," the younger man started to settle back into sleep. He'd never really left it entirely and now his dreams turned in the direction of being back in New Mexico and thoughts related.

Al leaned back in the chair, watching Sam reclaim his dream world, and hoped that this time, the nightmares wouldn't show themselves. A few minutes went by and Sam, his eyes still closed, spoke once more. "Will you help me build my swimming pool?"

The older man figured that a part of Sam's mind still wanted to assure that he was there beside him. He was just glad that the dream had turned away from the recent situation. "Yeah, Sam. Whatever you need."

"Good. But we can't put George and Gertrude in it. It's too big and they'll get scared." Sam's mind was already drifting off and had obviously started into the strangeness that seemed so normal when enthralled by dreams. "Maybe they want a bigger bowl."

Al laughed lightly at the direction of the kid's dreams. "Yeah. Bigger bowl." He couldn't help but think that as much as thinking about the fish took Sam's fears away, Farkel would be even better.

"Ok," was all Sam said. It was obvious to Al that the kid now felt safer as he snuggled deeper into his covers. With a smile, Al curled back up in the chair and went back to sleep himself.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Sunshine streaming through the window woke Sam the next morning. Noticing Al sleeping in a chair beside the bed, he let out a deep sigh. Grabbing the spare blanket off of the foot of the bed, he draped it over his still-sleeping friend then slipped silently from the bedroom and made his way to the kitchen.

After opening and closing several cupboards and the refrigerator, he came to the conclusion that he was sorely lacking in food. It explained why the stew the night before had a few of the normal vegetables missing and others substituted. At the thought, a half smile graced his face. Al had found a way around his need for groceries. He found a loaf of bread that, although stale, wasn't moldy. He dropped two slices in the toaster. Once it was toasted, he wouldn't notice that it was stale. Once his breakfast was cooking, he put a pot of coffee together.

Ten minutes later when Al came out to the kitchen, Sam was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee and a plate of toast in front of him. He had the yellow pages and was flipping through looking for a swimming pool installation company. Every now and then, he'd stop and just watch the two fish swimming in the bowl.

"Good morning, Sam." Al let out a yawn that was rather broad. "Coffee smells good."

Sam dropped his mug down to the counter with a thunk and looked at Al, mock horror on his face. "Are you ok?" he asked overly concerned. He snagged his friend's arm and pulled him closer to so he could reach to feel his forehead. "You coming down with something? Are you sick?"

"Huh?" Al asked, confused. He hadn't had much sleep and most of what he did get hadn't been restful. This wasn't the best morning for Sam's antics.

"You just said my coffee smelled good. You have never ever complimented my coffee. Something's got to be wrong with you."

Al yawned again. "Yeah, I'm still half asleep. Gooshie's coffee would smell good." Yet a third yawn left the man in as many minutes.

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam said seeing the evidence of how tired his friend was. "I'm sorry you ended up staying with me all night…again." He looked back to the two fish, running his finger along the side of the bowl and watching how they followed it. "I guess I asked some embarrassing stuff last night."

"You were just spooked by the dreams, Kid. I understood that. Besides, it was my choice to stay with you. It's not like you had to tie me to the chair or anything."

"No, I just begged you, that's all." Sam heaved another sigh. "I'm sorry, Al. I really am. I don't know what came over me. It's like I said. I feel like I step out of my body and...bam...I can't seem to control myself."

Al patted Sam lightly on the back. "And it's like I told you last night, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome can really mess a person up. I've seen it happen with a lot of vets." He paused. "It's part of what drove me to drink too much."

"I…I'm glad I have you here so that I don't do that. I wish I could have been there for you."

"Yeah. I know," Al said with a smile. He walked over to the coffee pot and took a mug down. Pouring a cup, he took a sip. "It's not your worst."

"Don't be too loose with your praise," Sam joked. He pointed at the remains of the loaf of bread. "Help yourself to some toast. There should still be enough there for you."

"Toast?" Al was about to say something about the fact that Sam should be eating more than toast when he remembered the shape of Sam's larder. "Not much else here, is there?"

"Nothing else that would pass as breakfast food unless you count that bacon in the freezer. But it's got so much frost built up on it I'm not sure if I bought it or it came with the fridge when I moved in."

"Knowing how often you clean out your fridge and stuff, it could have come with the house."

"Ha ha. Maybe we can do a little grocery shopping later." Flipping the phonebook closed, Sam pushed it away then finished the last of his toast. "You up to helping call around this week and find a reputable pool installer. I figure if I get started on that now, it'll be ready for next summer."

"You're really going to do this pool thing, aren't you?"

Yeah. Don't you think it's a good idea?" Sam got up and went over to one of the cupboards and pushed the contents around. He crowed in delight and pulled out a box of Poptarts that had been pushed to the back. "I knew I still had some of these." He gave a cursory look to the sell by date before ripping open one of the packages and dropping the two pastries into the toaster. "I don't know why I'm hungry this morning."

"What do you mean this morning?" Crinkling his nose at the Poptarts, Al commented, "I don't see how you can eat those things all the time."

"What's that supposed to mean? You eat them." When the toaster popped, Sam put his second breakfast on a second plate and brought it over to the island. He was surprised that Al hadn't scolded him yet for only using one of the crutches as he moved around getting his breakfast. "And there's nothing wrong with these. They're perfectly good. Look at the box. They've got some nutritional value to them."

"Yeah. But I don't eat them all the time. If you're needing glucose they'll keep you from passing out. All that sugar isn't good for you, Kid."

"Do you ever stop and think about how much you keep track of what I eat?" The question was asked mildly without any intention on Sam's part to start an argument. "When I say I'm hungry, you tell me I'm always hungry. When I'm not hungry, you practically force feed me and then you're always complaining about what I eat. Mom never kept track like this."

"I'm not keeping track. I'm just commenting when you're out of your normal routine."

"Well, as much as you comment, I must not have a normal routine. Geez, I want Poptarts. Is that really a problem?" Sam's intention not to make much of Al's commenting quickly fell by the wayside. "Every other day I eat a bowl of bran flakes and toast so what's the problem if every once in a while I want something a little different? Is it a Federal crime that no one told me about? Just stop it. Stop commenting on every crumb I put in my mouth or don't put in my mouth. It's starting to get a little exasperating."

Al put up his hands, not understanding what was putting Sam into such a state this morning but really not up to getting any deeper at the moment. "Whatever, Sam." Picking up his mug, he started out of the kitchen. "I'm going to get a shower."

"Oh for crying out loud," Sam called after his friend. "Don't go off in a snit just 'cause I'm tired of having this same discussion. It's like clockwork and we do it once a month or something."

Al turned. "I'm not in a snit, Sam. I just want to take a shower. I figure the hot water might get the kink out of my neck."

"Oh." Sam was chagrined to think that the kink in his friend's neck came courtesy of sleeping in a chair by his bedside all night. "I just...well you...I just thought you were mad because I wasn't agreeing with you. You do that sometimes. If I don't agree, you just walk away and shut me down."

"It's not because I'm mad, Kid. Sometimes I do that because it's just not worth it to get into the spiral." Al paused. "You think I'm shutting you down?"

"Well, yeah. When you make that kind of final statement and walk away, that's what it feels like. Sometimes I think that's what leads to the arguments we have. We both have that habit of walking away if we don't agree. It is worth it to come to a compromise, sometimes, instead of just walking away."

"That's true, Kid, and we do a lot of the time. Other times? Well, we're both stubborn cusses."

"So, can we stop? Honestly, I wasn't getting angry until you started to walk away. A little exasperated, yeah. Amused that this always seems to come up, yeah...but not angry. I just feel like when you throw your hands up like that and say whatever, you're either humoring me or you don't think I'm tough enough to listen to your thoughts on something and still defend my own position." Sam thought about his actions over the last couple of days and realized that the second option might be valid. "Ok, I'll admit, I've been a bit of a basket case lately but I don't want to be treated that way."

"I'll try not to do that, ok? Now, can I get that shower?" Al put his hand up to his neck and rubbed. "It's really tight."

"Ok, but when you're done, we can…I don't know…I just don't want to keep having this conversation."

"I told you, I'll try not to do that anymore, Kid. I don't know what more I can say." He suddenly flinched as one of his muscles in his neck spasmed.

"Are you sure it's not something else?" Sam had seen the grimace that crossed his friend's face.

"Nah. Just slept wrong," Al said rubbing at the errant muscle. "Seriously, I just think some aspirin and hot water will do wonders."

"You're probably right." Sam paused, "I'd still like to talk when you're done, please."

"Ok, Sam. Ok. Now, if I go you won't get it in your head that I'm doing anything but getting a shower?"

"No, I won't." Sam couldn't find it in him to be at all angry that Al would think his mind would go in that direction. It would be pretty much par for the course the last couple of days. "Go on take your shower. If you want, I'll put some liniment on your neck and back after you're done. That might help."

"We'll see. That shower might be all that's necessary." Al pushed open the door and walked out. With a sigh he started down the hall to the bathroom. He didn't understand entirely why the Kid didn't get it. He was Italian and Russian to boot. When his emotions were engaged, sometimes it just made sense to give an issue some space before tackling it. Still, he figured that maybe enough people had shut Sam down in the past and maybe that's why he thought Al was doing it. As his neck spasmed again, he decided that he could worry about dealing with Sam's perceptions after he took care of that.

Al spent a good half an hour under the spray. He'd taken a couple of aspirin as well. He was feeling pretty well afterward although his neck still wasn't 100 percent. He got dressed and then went back to the kitchen finding Sam finishing cleaning it up.

"Neck ok?" Sam finished drying the last mug and put it in the cupboard.

"Yeah. I feel a lot better now," he responded.

"Good." Sam grabbed the crutches from where he'd leaned them against the counter and moved back to the island and the stools there. Watching the two fish swimming in the bowl, he ran his finger around the rim. "I'd still like to talk, if you don't mind." Although he was asking the question to his friend, he aimed it at the goldfish.

Al considered that. "Mind if we go outside to do it? I want to light one of these up." He held up the cigar that he'd pulled out of his pocket.

"Sure, it might be nice outside." Sam got up and moved toward the sliding doors leading out the patio area. When he got to the door, he stopped and waited until Al reached around him and slid the door open. He moved over to the low wall he liked to sit on when he needed to think. "I was thinking the pool would be good here." He pointed to an area a short way from the wall.

"Yeah. Has a nice view as well," Al said as he prepared his cigar.

Sam had been anxious to talk with his friend but now that the moment was here, he found himself suddenly unsure of what to say. "I just want you to understand where I'm coming from," he began tentatively. "Why it bothers me when you walk off like that but I need to be able to do this without it turning into a shouting match."

Al lit the cigar and got it going. "Ok. Say your peace."

Sam opened his mouth to begin to speak but just as quickly closed it. After looking out at the desert for a few seconds, he slowly shook his head. "No. You don't want to hear me. I can hear it in your voice. It really doesn't matter what I say or how I feel." He held up his hand to stop anything Al might say. "Please don't...don't make this any worse." He looked out at the desert again and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Maybe we've just been together too much the last couple of days." As reluctant as he was to say it, he continued, "Maybe we just need to get away from each other for a little while or something."

Al took a draw on the cigar. He felt like he was caught in a Catch-22. He had committed himself to listening to the Kid but now that was being questioned. He felt tried and convicted without a trial and now Sam didn't want him to say anything. It hurt. Still he'd promised not to get into a shouting match and that's where this was heading. Besides, it was feeling too much like it had after LA with Sam pulling away from him. "I'm just not sure you should be left alone. You're leg and all," Al countered.

"Who cares?" Sam asked in dejection. He sat on the wall and let the crutches fall to the ground. "It doesn't matter. I don't think I matter anymore." He wouldn't face his friend, looking out at the desert instead. "I feel so lost and I don't know how to get back. I just want to matter."

Al rubbed at his face. What was it with these mood swings? "You matter, Sam." He started to tell him yet again that he needed to stop this but figured with the way Sam had been bouncing all around that it wouldn't help matters. At this point, he figured that getting Verbena involved again might be a good idea. Sam definitely wasn't snapping out of this quickly like he'd believed would happen.

"Then why won't you have a discussion with me?" Sam challenged. "You tell me to say my peace and that's it. That's not a discussion. That's not communicating. We used to do that but not now…" He was quiet again for a few seconds once more eyeing the horizon before turning back to Al. "I think I get it. You probably don't want to prolong things so you can get on with whatever you want to do. It's ok. I know I've been taking up a lot of your time lately and I've been acting like a spoiled brat. What's that saying? Familiarity breeds contempt?"

Al simply blinked at Sam. "I just don't know what to say. It seems that no matter what I do, it's the wrong thing. All I meant was, you said you wanted to talk about this and I wanted you to say what was on your mind."

"It wasn't what you said, Al. It was how you said. I could hear that you're impatient with me. It's ok. God knows you've been more than patient with me for a while now. You're allowed to lose it." Sam tried a small smile hoping it might set things to right, at least a little. "I wouldn't blame you if you lost your patience months ago. If you pick up the crutches from where they fell, I'll go in and stop bothering you for a while."

"It's no bother, Sam." Al continued to smoke his cigar but it wasn't nearly as pleasant as he would have liked. Right now, he was trying to decide what to do. "If you want to go in, I'll get your crutches. If you want to talk, I'm willing to do that. If you want to just sit here and enjoy the view, that works as well."

"I don't know. I just don't know." Sam picked up a loose stone on the wall and turned to hurl it as far as he could. When he did, he almost tumbled off the wall. It was only Al's quick reflexes that kept him in place. "I feel like I'm losing my mind," he said in a small voice once his balance had been restored. "Am I going crazy?"

"No!" Al said vehemently. "Stop it, Sam. Stop it right now. You're not crazy. You're having a difficult time putting things in perspective but you're not crazy." Hearing Sam voice what had been niggling at the back of his mind caused him to deny it once again. Wanting to have something physical to do, he threw down the cigar and crushed it out. Licking at his lips he finished. "Maybe Verbena can help you with regaining a better perspective though."

"Ok. If you think that's best." It was easier to just give in and do as he was told. Again, he considered there was some truth to what Harry had said. He'd been sure that getting away from Idaho would help him regain his footing. Since coming home, though, nothing had really changed. Maybe, he considered, everything he'd been told had been correct and he was weak. "I'm sorry." He didn't know what exactly it was he was sorry for but he knew there had to be something. "I'm sorry for everything."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sam." Al paused. "Listen, we need groceries. That's for certain. Maybe Verbena can come over and the two of you can talk while I'm gone."

"Why can't I go? Why do I have to stay here?"

Al let out a breath. "What was it you just said, Kid? Maybe we need a little time apart? I don't know if that's true or not but a short trip to the store will give me a little while to think and you a chance to talk over some stuff with Verbena. Don't you think that would be a good idea?"

For a moment, Sam realized that Al was taking what he'd said and was quite reasonably trying to put it into action. However, once again, it was as if another part of him was taking over and digging his heels in. That part, as illogical as it might be, was stronger. "No. I don't want to talk with Verbena. I wanted to talk with you and I want to pick out what I'm going to eat."

The muscle in Al's neck spasmed again. He grimaced and reached his hand up to rub it. Upset, he didn't think about how Sam might interpret his next words. He was at the end of his rope. "You told me to tell you when you're being an ass. Right now would be a good example."

The words Al spoke were a verbal slap in the face to Sam. He was feeling confused and unsure of himself and now Al was telling him he was being an ass. Whether his friend realized it or not, his simple statement was serving to cement in Sam's mind that everything that Harry had been saying was right. He hung his head ashamed that he was being so difficult. "You're right. I'll stay here."

Seeing Sam once more flip from being petulant to docile Al was at first tempted to comfort him. His neck continued to spasm. He was beginning to wonder if Verbena's concern that she wasn't going to be able to provide everything that Sam needed was correct. He didn't for a moment think Sam needed to be anyplace but his home, but he realized that maybe having some additional professional assistance just might be a good idea. However, before doing so, he needed to have Verbena evaluate that. "Ok then. I'll give Verbena a call. You coming in?"

"I'll come in if you want me to. If you want me to stay out here, I will." Sam decided that right now the best course of action was probably just to do whatever Al wanted him to do without questioning it even if it did go against his own desires. Honestly, when it came to staying outside or going in, he really didn't know what he wanted.

Scratching at his nose, the older man shrugged. "I don't know. Either way is fine. I'm just going to call Verbena."

"Do you want to send me away somewhere?" Sam asked the question simply and directly then closed his eyes and braced himself for the answer.

"What?" Al asked surprised. "No! I don't want you going anywhere. I just think that right now, Verbena would be the best person to talk to. Like I said, I've got to get groceries anyways and I'll make sure to get foods you like. Even Poptarts."

The relief that swept through Sam when Al said he didn't want to send him away was visible. "So what do you want me to do now?" He was going to stick with his plan of not rocking the boat and simply doing as he was told. He was not going to do anything to make Al change his mind.

"Why don't you come in, Sam. You probably want to get cleaned up before Verbena get's here. Might as well do it now"

Sam nodded and slipped from the wall. He tried to lean over to pick up the crutches without putting too much weight on his injured knee and almost toppled over. "Can you help?" he asked as he grabbed onto the wall for balance.

"Of course, Kid," Al said picking up the crutches and handing them to Sam.

"Thank you." Once the two men were in the kitchen again, Sam looked over his shoulder and asked, "So you want me to take a shower before you leave?"

"Well, I figured you'd probably want to. You might as well go on and get it now." Al helped Sam get into the shower, telling him to call him if he needed him. Then, while Sam was getting cleaned up, he called Verbena. He tried to keep his voice from showing the extreme concern he was feeling, but Verbena recognized it anyways. She said she'd be right over.

While Sam was in the shower, he decided to do what he needed to prove to Al he could take care of himself. When he came out 20 minutes later, his hair was still damp and finger combed in place. He had on a pair of black sweats that bunched at his ankles because they were too long, an oversized, bright yellow t-shirt with a smiley face on it and a ratty, navy blue zip front sweatshirt. "Is it ok if I take one of the painkillers? My knee's starting to hurt again," he asked as he joined Al in the kitchen where the older man was putting a shopping list together based on what, or rather, what was not in the cupboards and refrigerator.

"Yeah. Sounds like a good idea, Kid. You want to look over this list and see if there's anything I missed that you'd like?" Al hadn't looked up but as he did, noticed Sam's choice of dress. As much as the kid wasn't as likely to be overly concerned about his dress, Sam's outfit caused him to consider how young it made him look. Although he often thought of his friend as 'the Kid,' at the moment, that's exactly what he looked like. Like a lost adolescent. Al's sense of concern shot up and he hoped that Verbena would be there soon.

Sam took the list and scanned it. "Are there any bags of popcorn left? Better get some if there isn't. And milk and Oreos."

"Ok. I'll make sure to get those." Worried but determined to keep things on as normal a routine as he could, they went over a few more items when the doorbell rang. "That's probably Verbena," Al said getting up quickly and going out to the hall to answer the door. He was surprised at the relief he felt.

Sam followed along behind him. "Hi 'Bena." He tried to hold back a yawn but had no success. He smiled at the newly arrived doctor apologetically. "I just took a pain pill and it's making me sleepy. I'm going to lie down for a while."

"No problem, Sam. We can talk later after you've rested." Once Sam was in his room and the door was closed, the doctor turned to Al. Seeing the concern in his eyes, she knew something was definitely wrong. She wanted Al to tell her his own way and thus asked simply, "How's he been?"

Al let out a breath and reached his hand to his neck again as the muscle spasmed once more. "I don't know. I just don't know," he said looking up and away from her

Verbena's reading of Al's body language told her that he was likely having a hard time with his thoughts. She gestured toward the kitchen and away from Sam's room. She didn't know what he was going to say but at the moment didn't want to take the chance that what he'd say would upset Sam. Once they were in the kitchen, she bluntly told him, "Spill it, Al. What's been going on?"

Al blinked. He figured that Verbena would be able to figure out what was the best plan to help his best friend. It hurt him to think about what might be necessary to help the kid. "Well, last night Sam started having nightmares again. They were pretty bad. I ended up sleeping the chair next to him." He paused. "He was scared and didn't want me to leave him."

"And," the woman prompted. She had a feeling there was more than what Al was saying. He almost seemed like he was holding something back. "C'mon, Al. I know you're worried I'll want to admit him for inpatient care but more happened than a couple of nightmares. I'd expect that. Now what's really going on?"

"Well…last night really was mostly just the nightmares…but this morning was when things really got whacked. I came in and coffee was made. Usually Sam makes atrocious coffee, but today I didn't care. I was tired. Sam started razzing me. Felt like Sam was just being Sam." Seeing that Verbena was still waiting for something, he continued, "Anyways, he decided to look for something else to eat and found Poptarts. I made a simple comment about those and Sam takes my head off saying that I track his eating or something like that. So I decide to take a shower to get rid of the crick in my neck and Sam starts into something about me storming off."

There were still pieces missing, Verbena knew that, but some of the blanks were starting to fill in. "Did he ask to talk with you about it? Did he want to find a solution?"

"Yeah. In fact he kept pushing. Just wouldn't let it go."

"Was he angry or belligerent when he kept pushing or did he just want to have a dialogue?"

"Well, he was just adamant. He said it was frustrating to him when he thought I was shutting him down."

"I'm going to assume that the two of you didn't talk." Verbena was silent for a moment as she weighed how much of Sam's - her patient's - confidentiality she might be breaching. "Sam's brought this up in some of our sessions. He's mentioned how either of you will walk away from a difficult discussion instead of pushing through it. Presumably, that's to stave off an argument. He felt that this was causing a distance between the two of you and I suggested that the next time it happens, he should push to address what was happening. That he did it today, in light of everything that's been happening, was a big step for him."

"It would have been nice to have a heads up he was going to do that," Al said, realizing that Sam had been reaching out. "The thing is, it's not really to stave off an argument. It's more like we're heading for the edge of cliff and I figure it's better to just give both of us a chance to regroup. That way, we get a better solution."

"But Sam doesn't see it that way and unless the two of you communicate about it, he's never going to. You're right, though, how could you have known." Verbena chose her next words very carefully knowing she was going to tread dangerous ground. If there was one person who disliked the idea of psychiatrists more than Sam Beckett, it was Al Calavicci. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if you participated in some of the sessions I have with Sam. It could be beneficial to the two of you."

"If it'll help Sam, I'm willing," Al answered. Normally, the idea of working with a psychiatrist was antismal to him, but this was Verbena and the fear he felt for his friend was enough to have him ready to do anything. He continued talking about what had happened. "Today? Sam was bouncing all over the place, one second logical, the next raking me over the coals, and the next wanting to do whatever I told him. To be honest, I don't know that anything I said would have been right." He totally skipped over the suggestion that the session was as much for him as Sam.

Al's assessment of Sam's mood swings didn't completely surprise Verbena. "I don't suppose you can offer any specifics, anything that might have trigged a change from one mood to the other."

"Nothing. It was like there was a dial on him or something that kept getting changed." Al's face scrunched. "That's why I called you. He needs to talk to someone that can understand all this and get him back on track. Once he does that, he'll be ok."

"Al, it might not..." Verbena stopped herself from finishing the sentence. She was going to point out once again that Sam may require round the clock help but she knew that suggestion wouldn't be welcomed. "It would be easier if I knew what was triggering the mood swings," she said instead. "I guess only Sam can tell us that, though, and I'm not sure he can. When he gets up I'll talk with him. Hopefully, we can make some progress but I also think when you get back, you need to be there for it too. The two of you can't keep going on like this or it's going tear both of you apart."

"Ok, 'Bena. You're the expert." He grabbed the car keys. "Now I need to get to the store or else there's not going to be anything for lunch. Sam hardly ate anything this morning as it was."

"Do me a favor, before you go. Go in there and let him know you're leaving. Let's not give him any reason to go into complete meltdown again."

"Yeah." Al followed Verbena's request and went to Sam's room. The door was closed. Al knocked softly. "Sam?" Muffled by the door, Al heard Sam say something, he assumed it was come in and pushed the door open.

Sam had turned on the TV in the bedroom and put on one of the Indiana Jones movies. He reached for the remote when Al came in and turned it off then looked to Al expectantly.

"Hey, Kid. I'm going to the store now. I'll be back in about an hour, ok?"

"Sure you don't want me to come, too?" Sam hand slid under the top blanket as he asked the question and his fingers twined in an unseen object. "I can keep you company."

"I thought we went over this before. I'm going to go on my own so that I can have a little time to think through things. Verbena's here so if there's anything you need to talk through you'll be able to do it." Al paused, wondering if he should let on what Verbena had told him and decided not to but to let Sam know that the opportunity to talk would be there. "Anyways, we can talk like you wanted when I get back, ok?"

Sam accepted the offer Al was making. "Ok, later is good. Can you get some chicken and some cream of mushroom soup? I think I still have some rice in the cupboard. I want to make some chicken and rice tonight." It was his way of making an offer as well. Chicken and rice was one of the few meals that he made that Al really enjoyed. Offering to make it was his own variation of a peace offering.

Al smiled. "Ok. Chicken and rice sounds nice." He wondered once more if he'd just taken things too seriously. Maybe Sam would be ok after all. "I'll see you in about an hour."

Sam nodded and then turned back to the TV, starting the movie again.

Verbena had gone into the living room and had turned on the TV. She figured that Sam knew she was there and if he needed anything including an ear to listen, he'd seek her out.

As the movie ended, Sam reached for the remote and turned it off. He looked over to the clock and realized that Al had left about an hour and half before. Taking a breath, he told himself that there could be lots of reasons that Al was later than his estimate. Still, it made him a little nervous. He slid from the bed and reached for the crutches. As he did, he felt the pull in his back muscles again. He couldn't remember having this much trouble the last time he'd had to use them. He went into the bathroom where his prescriptions were. Finding the bottle of Carisoprodol, he shook one and took it. Hopefully it wouldn't take long before it would start relaxing the muscles in his back. Once he'd taken the medication, he went out to the living room. "Hi 'Bena," he greeted the woman sitting on the couch.

"Hi Sam. Everything ok?" she asked, noticing a slight grimace as he moved.

"Huh? Yeah. I'm just a little sore, that's all. I'll be glad to get rid of these things."

"I'll bet."

"I suppose Al told you about our argument earlier, didn't he?" He figured that since it had precipitated Al's suggestion for Verbena to come over, that his friend had likely told her some of what happened. "That's why he was talking to you out in the hall so I wouldn't hear."

"He said that you had a rather spirited discussion. We weren't keeping anything from you though. You were the one that left to go rest, remember?"

"No, I didn't," Sam contradicted. "I went into my bedroom because the two of you were talking in the hallway. It was obvious you didn't want to include me. I just made it easier for you."

Verbena licked her lips lightly. That wasn't what had happened but it was obviously Sam's perception. "I'm sorry we gave you that impression, Sam."

"Why are you sorry?" Sam asked in challenge. "The two of you always do that anyways. You always talk about me. Why start apologizing now?"

Verbena was taken by surprise by Sam's somewhat aggressive attitude. "That's simply not true. I believe that motivations are being seen where none exist. Do you want to talk about why that perception persists?"

Sam moved over to the arm chair and grabbed one of the throw pillows that was on it. He flung it in Verbena's direction. "Analyze that. I'm tired of everything I say and do being picked apart." The pillow bounced off the sofa near the woman and bounced to the floor. Sam was immediately sorry for what he'd done. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I'm just...I just don't want everything I say to have to have some other meaning."

"I get the concept that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," Verbena responded. "Right now, though, whether you realize it or not, your actions are not typical for you and thus are open to consideration." She paused and looked down at her watch. Al should be returning soon. "Are you sure you feel all right?"

Sam sighed. He was making mountains out of molehills. He knew Verbena wasn't like the psychiatrists he'd spoken to as a child. Normally, they got along great. "I don't know. I just feel really out of sorts, you know?"

"That happens to all of us."

"Yeah, but it's like…" He tried to figure out a way to explain it. "It's like…well…it's like I feel sort of creepy. I know it's going to sound strange 'cause it's not fear, but the feeling is sort of like when I get on a plane."

"All right," Verbena said, although she was concerned by the description. "Perhaps a small amount of Diazepam might help that 'out of sorts' feeling? It seems to help when you get on the plane."

"That's true. I guess it wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll calm me down enough to concentrate. I want to work on the report I was putting together before we left but I don't think I can right now."

"Ok. Let me get my bag." Verbena unfolded herself from the sofa and when over to her bag. Opening it, she pulled out a vial and syringe. Putting in a small dose, she moved over to Sam. "Ready. You know the drill."

"I thought I could just take the pills like I did on the plane. Do you have to stick me with that?" As much as he'd like to feel at ease, at least enough so that he could work on his project, Sam was tired of needles being stuck in him and feeling like a pin cushion.

"You said you want to work on a report. I assume you mean now. If I give you a pill, it will take a while to take effect. This will allow the diazepam to work quicker. It's just a small amount."

"All right." Sam took off one sleeve the sweatshirt and pulled up the sleeve of the t-shirt. "Can you at least stick me here instead of in the butt?" A small, humorous smile touched his lips. "It starts to feel like a pin cushion after a while."

"Of course," Verbena smiled back. "Don't want you having trouble concentrating because your backside is sore."

Once he'd been given the injection, Sam pulled the t-shirt sleeve down and put his sweatshirt back on. "I'm gonna go in my office for a while. I really do want to work on that report."

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Will do," Sam agreed before making his way to the office. He booted up the computer and settled in to get as much work done before Al came home and they had their talk. His friend had promised him that they would and he was going to hold him to it. They had to. It could only make things in the future easier.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Al arrived back at the house and brought in the first couple of bags of groceries. As often as he was over Sam's house, he knew where most of the things were kept. With the way Sam had been acting, however, he decided that perhaps today it would be better to put them away together. He went out into the hall that separated the kitchen from the other living areas. Seeing Verbena in the living room, he asked, "Know where Sam is?"

Verbena nodded down the hall towards Sam's office. "He went in there to finish a report."

As Al walked back to the office. He gave a cursory knock and pushed door open. Catching Sam's side of a phone conversation, he couldn't believe his ears. From the sounds of it, the kid was telling off Weitzman and very loudly. Al knew how close he was to committing professional suicide. Without a second thought, he pulled the phone down from Sam; who had been talking and pacing as best he could, quickly apologized to Weitzman, and assured him he'd be calling back. He hung up before the man had a chance to say anything.

He turned from the phone to find Sam staring at him aghast at having the phone wrested from him in the manner it had. "What the hell were you doing, Sam?" he exclaimed loudly. "Do you want to lose your project?"

"I'm sick and tired of him hounding me." Sam stared Al down defiantly, not ready to give an inch. Weitzman had had this coming for a long time. "You want to play nice with him, that's your choice. I'm done with that."

This time it was Al's turn to stare at his friend aghast. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sam had always been the one to suffer in silence when it came to Weitzman but now he was blowing up at the pompous Senator. "Are you out of your mind? I can't stand the nozzle anymore than you but you know damned well you can't talk to him like that - not and keep your project. Criminey! Do you know how much damage control I'm going to have to do after this little outburst of yours? It's one thing to tear apart a hotel room 'cause of what that bastard did to you...to us...but this time you're tearing apart your career and mine and a whole lot of other people's! Is that what you want? Are you out of your mind?" In his anger at what he deemed a stupid and rash action by Sam, Al didn't censor his words and didn't think about the impact they'd have on his friend. For the first time the thought had been broached, he entertained the idea that maybe Sam did need to be committed. He seemed hell bent on destroying his life right now.

Sam stood blinking a few times as he processed what his friend had said. "You think I'm crazy?" he finally asked unsure if he'd understood what Al had said.

"At the moment, I'm not sure what I think." Al's stance softened just a bit but he wasn't ready to let Sam off the hook yet. This wasn't a situation where coddling him was going to have a positive effect. "You can't go around mouthing off to senators - powerful senators - like that and expect that there's not going to be some backlash."

Sam stood still taking his dressing down. He was starting to feel very uncomfortable and interrupted. "Al, I don't feel good. Can you yell at me later?"

Thinking that Sam was once more playing on the fact that his concern would trump his anger, Al waved him off. "Not gonna work this time, Kid. I'm not gonna run to put a tourniquet on your paper cut. You screwed up big time and you're going hear me out."

Al continued on with his dressing down. He barely registered the brief look of surprise in Sam's eyes when he hadn't reacted with sudden concern. It was at least another minute before he noticed how pale Sam had suddenly become, the perspiration that covered his face, and the way he seemed to struggle for breath. His tirade trailed off. "Sam....?"

Swaying slightly in place, Sam put out a hand to Al to regain his balance. He rubbed at his chest with the other. "Don't feel good. Feels like my heart's coming out my chest. Hard to breathe and I'm dizzy."

Al backed him to the couch and pushed him to sit while yelling out Verbena's name. All he could think about was that Sam was having a heart attack and he'd ignored him when he first complained. "Hang on, Sammy," he said in shaking voice. "We're gonna get you some help."

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Verbena had been hearing the raised voices of the two men but decided it was best if she remained away from them for now. The loud voices trailed off and she could barely make out their softer voices when suddenly Al's panicked shout of her name rang out. She ran back to the office thinking the worst. Sam was sitting on the couch with Al leaning over him. She noticed how pale the physicist looked. "What's wrong?" she asked as he hurried over to the two men.

Al wasn't sure where to put his gaze, to Verbena or keep it on Sam to make sure he didn't miss anything again. "It's his heart. I think he's having a heart attack. You gotta help him."

"Al, calm down," Verbena warned. The last thing any of them needed right now was for Al to start panicking. She sat down next to Sam and picked up his wrist to feel his pulse. It was so fast she could barely count it. "Sam, honey, are you in pain? Is your chest hurting?" She kept her voice calming and gentle not wishing to upset him any more.

"Yeah, a little. It's really uncomfortable and it's going so fast. It won't stop."

"Well, we don't want it to stop, do we?" Verbena asked with a small, tight smile. She looked back over her shoulder at Al. Calmly she advised, "Al, why don't you call an ambulance? I think we might want a little extra help here."

Al swallowed tightly. "Yeah. Help." He went over to the phone and called 911, telling the dispatcher that Sam was likely having a heart attack and they needed an ambulance right away. The woman asked if he could stay on the phone with her and Al agreed after Verbena gave him a head signal to do so.

While Verbena worked with Sam, Al stayed on the phone trying to keep calm. After solid ten minutes later, there was the sound of a siren approaching. As much as Sam liked his house on the outskirts of town, it did mean first alert could take some time. "I hear them. They're almost here!" Al informed the dispatcher

"Just a little while longer, Sam, and they'll help you start to feel better," Verbena comforted when she too heard the sound of the approaching siren. She looked back to Al, "You should go open the door for them," she suggested.

Al nodded his head. To the dispatcher on the phone he said, "I need to go let them in," before putting the phone down. Before leaving the room, he paused near the couch. "You're going to be ok, Sam. You hear me? You're going to be ok." He gave Sam a smile to bolster his assurance and then rushed to the front door, opening it as the ambulance pulled up. Things started happening very quickly after that.

Sam hadn't spoken while they'd been waiting for the ambulance. His eyes had moved fearfully from Al to Verbena and back to Al. "I'm scared," he confided in a whisper when Al had left the room."

"I know you are, Sam, but you're going to be just fine, you hear me."

A few minutes later, the small office was crowded as the two EMT's came in with their equipment. Verbena yielded her place to give the two men room to work. She moved over to stand by Al. "He's going to be ok," she said quietly to him. "You have to believe that."

"He told me he wasn't feeling good and I ignored it." The guilt in Al's voice was nearly a palpable thing.

"It's not your fault, Al," Verbena stated firmly. "You didn't cause this."

"But I didn't listen to him."

Verbena knew better than to argue the point right now. That could only serve to distract the two EMT's and right now their attention needed to be fixed wholly on Sam with no distractions. "We'll talk later," she said as they watched the EMT's work.

They put an oxygen mask on and had hooked Sam up to a portable cardiac monitor. After contacting the hospital, they also started an IV then transferred Sam to the waiting gurney. Once he was strapped in, they started to move out. "Can we ride with him?" Al asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Sir. You can't ride in back with him. You can ride up front."

Hearing the answer to his friend's question, Sam pulled the oxygen mask off and reached out to Al. "No, you have to come. You have to come with me."

Al looked at the EMT's. He wanted to be with Sam but he'd do whatever they wanted.

"You need to leave that on," one of the EMT's said as he replaced the oxygen mask. "You're friend can ride up front."

"No," Sam insisted fearfully. "I want him with me...please."

"Maybe we should make an exception, Joe," the other EMT advised as he watched Sam's heart rate spike slightly on the monitor. "We don't need him getting any more upset."

Joe looked from his patient's face to the cardiac monitor then nodded slightly. He looked over to Al. "Ok, you can ride in back but you stay out of my way." It was an order, not a request.

"You won't even know I'm there," Al promised.

Once they were in the ambulance, Al tried to make himself as small as he possibly could in the corner while still maintaining a hold on Sam's hand. The kid had reached out for him as soon as he got in the back of the vehicle and now had a death grip on his hand. "It's gonna be ok, Sammy. You'll see." Al wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Sam or himself.

From where he was sitting, Al could see the cardiac monitor. He wasn't sure what all the blips on it meant but they looked like they were too close together.

The EMT, who introduced himself as Paul once the ambulance was moving, remained in constant contact with the hospital. He kept using words like tachycardia and diaphoretic that Al didn't completely understand. He didn't want to interrupt the man to find out what they meant. He felt like he was in the dark right now since the only other person who could shed some light on what everything meant was Sam and he certainly wasn't going to ask him.

What he did know was that there was something wrong Sam's heart. He definitely knew that the 'cardia' was related to the heart. Considering his father had died from a massive heart attack and his mother had had recent heart problems, Al knew that this couldn't bode well for Sam.

Following his promise to stay out of the way, the older man remained quiet listening to everything going on in the small space. He'd been so focused on the activities that he was surprised when they reached the hospital. The doors were thrown open and Sam was pulled out and rushed into the ER.

When he saw that Al wasn't coming with him, Sam stretched out his hand calling for him.

Al had pulled back, wanting the medical professionals to do what they needed to help Sam. Hearing his name called he moved closer but couldn't get to Sam since there literally was no room with all of the people around him. "I'm here, Sam," he said loudly hoping that would provide the assurance his buddy needed. "I'm right here. I haven't left."

Hearing Al's voice, one of the nurses moved toward him and gently steered him to the door. "I'm sorry, Sir, you can't be in here. You'll have to wait outside."

Al looked over to Sam. He understood why he was being moved away and didn't try to resist. Calling to his friend once more, he told him, "I'll be waiting for you, Kid. Out in the waiting room. As soon as I can come in, I'll be here."

"No. I want Al. I want Al to stay." Despite the muffling effect of the oxygen mask, Sam's voice carried to everyone in the room.

"Not right now," one of the nurses responded gently. "We need to take care of you first. Your friend will be right outside."

"But..." Sam started to say only to trail off as he realized how futile it was. Before he could think of protesting anymore, the doctor started asking him a barrage of questions and he did his best to answer them as truthfully and accurately as possible.

Al gave one last look to Sam before moving back into the ER. Once again he was tasked with filling out form after form. "I ought to just keep a copy with me," he thought despondently. He was working on the third one when Verbena walked in.

"Any word yet," the psychiatrist asked worriedly as she sat on the empty chair by Al.

"Since they took him in, there's been nothing." He barely looked up at her as he finished the form and started the fourth and last one. "Why they can't automate this, I'll never know. They should have all of Sam's information by now."

"It's policy," was the only thing Verbena could think to say. The only other thing she could come up with was that it gave the person filling it out something to concentrate on instead of going crazy waiting to hear word on a loved one. "How was Sam doing?"

"He called for me but they wouldn't let me stay." Before Verbena could remind him that that was policy as well, Al waved off the words. "Don't worry; I've been through the drill enough times." As he finished the last form he sighed. "Why didn't I listen to him Verbena?"

"You did, Al. That's why we're here. You can't start blaming yourself for this."

Al took a breath. "Do you know what he was doing when I walked in the room? Do you?" He rushed through without giving her a chance to answer. "He was raking Weitzman over the coals. Sam! I just couldn't believe my ears. Sure I was mad, but I shouldn't have yelled at him like that. With all the things that have been happening, I thought when he complained he was just trying to play me again." Al's head dropped. "If anything happens to him because of that..." he trailed off.

"And how much time passed from when he first complained until you called me." Verbena rested a hand on Al's arm and bent down to catch his eye. "Al, from the time I told you Sam was in his office until you called my name, I don't think much more that 5 or 6 minutes passed. It may have seemed longer when it was happening, but it wasn't."

"Still..." Al began.

"No, Al," Verbena said firmly. "You are not going to take the blame for this. I won't let you." She eyed the man sitting next to her speculatively. "The two of you are cut from the same cloth." When Al looked quizzical, she explained, "You both want to take responsibility for everything even when it's impossible for either of you to control." She waited a beat for what she'd said to sink in and then got up. "Now, I'm going to go get you a cup of coffee and we're going to sit here and wait for the doctor and you are not going to blame yourself or think the worst. Am I clear?

"Yeah, you're clear." A small, sad smile briefly touched Al's lips. "You'd have made a hell of an officer."

"Yeah, well, I know this hard-headed admiral who's given me a few pointers," Verbena quickly answered. "It's going to work out, Al. Just keep believing that." She went out to the corridor and returned a few minutes later with two cups of coffee. While they waited for a doctor to come out and let them know how Sam was doing, they made small talk and tried not to think of everything that could be going wrong.

As they were talking, a doctor came out and walked over to them. "Admiral Calavicci?"

Standing, Al acknowledged who he was.

"My name's Dr. Thomas. I'm the staff cardiologist who's been treating Mr. Beckett. Why don't we go to one of the consultation rooms down the hall to talk?"

The doctor's demeanor and his request to speak with him in a consultation room immediately had Al on edge. "Yeah…uh…I'd like my colleague, Verbena Beeks, to join us as well. She was there when we called the ambulance."

"Of course, if you'd like." Dr. Thomas led them to a small consultation room a short distance up the corridor. Once they were both seated and the door had been pushed closed, he very directly asked, "How long has Mr. Beckett had a drug use problem?"

"What!" Al exclaimed. "Sam? He doesn't have a drug use problem."

Dr. Thomas sighed at the denial. In some respects he'd been expecting it. "Admiral, when I asked Mr. Beckett if he'd taken any medications today, he told me he'd taken Demerol, Carisoprodol and Diazepam - three very powerful drugs."

Verbena spoke up. "That's because he's being treated for a recent emotional trauma as well as injuries."

"He mentioned that. He also said he took all three fairly close together today. That's not a customary treatment." Dr. Thomas looked between Sam's two friends. "Did you know he'd taken these medications?"

"I knew he'd had a small dose of Diazepam. I wasn't aware of the other two drugs being used," Verbena answered. She realized that she hadn't actually asked Sam knowing that he usually volunteered that kind of information if it was pertinent. From the past, she also knew that Sam generally didn't take strong medications unless he was out of other options. "I...I didn't ask."

"You gave him the Diazepam then?" Dr. Thomas asked with narrowed eyes.

Al spoke up, not liking how the Doctor was looking at Verbena like a bug under a microscope. "She's a psychiatrist and she's been treating Sam for the trauma that was mentioned. I'm sure she gave him only what she thought was reasonable."

"I wasn't aware you were Mr. Beckett's physician. How long has he been taking these medications?"

Before Verbena could answer, Al pushed in. "What's any of this got to do with Sam's condition right now? He came in having a heart attack. Is he ok? I don't know what you're trying to pull with this drug red herring."

"First," Dr. Thomas calmly began, "Mr. Beckett has not suffered a heart attack. He was tachycardic - his heart rate was too high - which is what caused his symptoms. Now I haven't completely ruled out an organic defect as the cause but it's also highly likely that this episode was caused by the combination of drugs he's taken. Establishing how long he's been taking them can help me to better diagnose him."

Verbena answered calmly as well. "The hospital he was seen by in Idaho prescribed the Demerol and Carisoprodol. Due to psychiatric indications, I prescribed the Diazepam."

"And how long has he been taking them?" Dr. Thomas again asked.

"About a week," Verbena answered. "If I'd known he'd already taken the Demerol and Carisoprodol today, I never would have suggested that he take the Diazepam." She wiped her hand over her face feeling as if she were the cause of Sam's current problem.

"Remember what you told me, 'Bena. I'm not going to let you take the blame for this either." Al turned to the doctor wanting to know about specifics. They could all start to play the blame game but that wasn't going to change where they were right now. In Al's eyes, there was ultimately one man responsible for everything that happened and right now he was lucky he was in a jail in Idaho and not anywhere Al could wrest his own brand of justice. "What do we do now? If these drugs are causing this, he just stops taking them and he's fine, right?"

"Ideally, that's how it would work but if, as you've said, he's taking them for a purpose completely stopping them will likely cause other problems. Now, has he ever had any kind of reactions similar to this with any medications in the past?"

Verbena looked to Al allowing him to answer the question. Even though she'd been working in the capacity of Sam's physician, she knew he knew more of his medical history than she did.

"Like this, no but he has had some reactions." When the doctor prompted him regarding the reactions, Al continued. "A little over a year ago he was hit by a car. They gave him Vicodin for pain and they had to change it. He was having all these mood swings and stuff and the doctor said it was probably the Vicodin. Once he stopped that and they gave him Percoset instead, he started doing a lot better.

Dr. Thomas made a note in the folder he'd brought in with him. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Earlier this year he was taking an antibiotic and the same thing happened. He was off the wall and agitated almost constantly and he broke out in hives."

"Was the antibiotic switched?"

Al nodded. "They gave him something else – said he was probably allergic to it or something." Remembering back to that hospital visit, he added, "They give him Diazepam until the agitation from the first anti-biotic was gone and nothing like this happened then. Why's it happening now? He just slept a lot when he took it that time but he's been off the wall now."

"I suspect the paradoxical reaction is probably being caused by the combination of the three drugs." Dr. Thomas quietly flipped through some papers in the folder and made a few more notes. "Based on what you've told me here and the information in the preliminary record search that was done, I'd hazard a guess that Mr. Beckett has a particular sensitivity to drugs."

"No shinola, Doc. I've watched the kid conk out from taking two Ibuprophin."

Dr. Thomas had to hold back a laugh at Al's blunt way of speaking. "It's not quite as simple as him conking out. As you've seen, it can cause other problems as well."

"So what do we do?"

"Right now, we concentrate on the immediate. We rule out any organic reason for the tachycardia but in the event we do find one, we treat that. Mr. Beckett indicated that Dr. David Stone has treated him for a previous orthopedic injury so I've asked him to consult on this with regards to the knee injury. Mr. Beckett mentioned a partial tear of the ACL. Dr. Stone will examine that and set a course for pain management. Once all the test results come back and we're sure that there are no cardiac defects to be addressed and there are no more tachycardia symptoms, Mr. Beckett will be released. Until then, he's going to have to remain our guest."

Al and Verbena exchanged a quick look. "That ought to go over like a lead balloon." Al drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Can I see him?"

"He's having an echocardiogram done right now. When it's finished, he'll be moved to a room in the cardiac care unit. I can have a nurse bring you up there when he's settled.

"Yeah. We'd appreciate that," Al answered, including Verbena in his answer.

"It'll probably be about another half hour or so. You might want to go to the cafeteria and get something to eat," Dr. Thomas suggested.

Verbena looked over to Al. "He's right. At least it'll pass the time."

"Ok," Al answered. "I guess I could eat something." As he and Verbena started out the door, he turned back to Dr. Thomas with another question. "Does Sam know about this drug thing or does he still think he had a heart attack."

"I've spoken with him about it. At first all he'd mentioned taking was the Diazepam and Demerol. It was only after I mentioned the likelihood that it was the drugs that caused the problem that he told me about taking the Carisoprodol as well."

"Ok. I just didn't want to surprise him if he didn't know. Thanks, Doc." Once more Al started to leave consultation room with Verbena. "Oh damn, I left the groceries in the car!" he said as they walked toward the elevator.

"There's nothing that can be done about it now. When you get back to Sam's place, you'll just have to save what you can."

"Yeah," Al answered. "It's a shame, though."

The two went down to the cafeteria and got coffee and sandwiches that both felt could probably be used to shingle a roof. Neither really said much, concerned about the man they both cared about. After about twenty-five minutes, a nurse came and found them. "I was asked to let you know when Mr. Beckett was transferred to his room."

Al looked up at the woman. "Thank you. How's he doing?" he asked with concern.

"He's resting right now although I think he'll rest a lot better once he sees you. He's asked for you several times."

"Well, let's not keep him waiting any longer," Al replied getting up from his seat. He gathered the remains of the food and dropped it into a trashcan as they walked by.

The nurse took them to a room on the fifth floor where the CCU was located. All of the rooms in that unit were private so Sam wouldn't have a roommate. Al hoped that when the nurse said that Sam was resting, it meant that he wasn't also in there worrying himself over what had happened. They wouldn't know that, though, until they went in the room and saw him.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

When Al and Verbena entered the hospital room, Sam was lying with the head of the bed inclined at about a 45 degree angle. Although he was breathing without any assistance, there was still an IV present and he was hooked up to a heart monitor. The wires running from the patches on his chest appeared at the neck of the blue and green patterned hospital gown to connect with the monitor on the wall just behind the bed. The volume on it had been turned down so only a soft beeping could be heard.

As the nurse had said, Sam was in the room alone. It was a small room with just enough space for the bed, some equipment pushed against one wall and a chair. A door adjacent to the one they entered through led to a bathroom.

Al tried to be cheerful, although it was hard seeing his buddy once more in a hospital gown and lying in bed. "Hey, Kid. How're you feeling?"

Hearing Al's voice, Sam turned from looking out the window to looking at his friend. He was still pale with dark shadows under his eyes but he didn't look like he was in the distress he'd been in earlier. "Better but the doctor says I have to stay here at least over night. He said I didn't have a heart attack…it was all the medication I took."

Verbena spoke up. "I guess that was my doing, Sam. I didn't realize that you'd have such a reaction to that particular mix."

"I should have told you what I took. **I** should have known what could happen with all of that but...I just wasn't thinking. I just wanted the pain to stop." From the way Sam spoke, it was understood the pain he meant was both physical and emotional. "Dr. Thomas said the tachycardia could have been worse and that I'm lucky."

"You sure gave us a scare, Sam," Al said with a thickness to his voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." Although the physical manifestations of the drug cocktail had mostly eased, Sam was still feeling the emotional ones in spades. He caught his lower lip between his teeth trying to reel in the conflicting emotions crashing through him. "I really screwed up this time, didn't I? I mean with Weitzman."

Verbena looked between the two men and realized that this conversation needed to be between them without her presence. "I'm going to go out to stretch my legs a little." Giving Sam a smile, she added, "You just get yourself better, Sam. Doctor's orders." As she passed Al, she tapped him on the shoulder. "Go easy on him," she said so that only he could hear her.

Al nodded. He now knew that Sam's outburst had been drug induced even if it had been rooted in justifiable anger. He waited for the door to close before he turned back to his friend. "I've got to be honest with you. It's going to be hard to smooth this one over."

"It was like I said before...like I stepped outside of myself and all of sudden; I'm watching myself yelling at Weitzman. I don't even remember what I told him." He leaned back against the pillow shaking his head slightly. "He's never going to let this go. Even if you tell him why it happened, he's just going to think I'm nuts or a drug addict or something. I really screwed up...for all of us."

Al could see how much this was hurting Sam. With all the other things that had happened, it just didn't seem fair. "No. This was due to a medical mistake. It happens."

"I don't think he's going to see it that way. He's had it out for me for a long time and this is just going to make it easier for him to shut us down. I'll probably be lucky if he doesn't find some way to have me committed." Sam shuddered visibly at the thought of being locked away in a mental hospital.

"No way, Kid. Not going to happen." Al wasn't sure how he was going to prevent Weitzman from pulling the funding but he still had a few favors to call in. As to the other, they'd have to go through him first. One thing Al knew for certain was that Sam's unique mind didn't belong anywhere near a mental hospital.

"I hope." Sam licked his lips and reached for the cup of water on the table only to find it empty. Picking up the pitcher next to it, he found that that was also empty. "Guess they forgot to leave me water."

"I'll get you some." Al went into the bathroom and let it run until it was cold and then filled the pitcher. Walking back in he saw Sam lying there looking as dejected as he'd ever seen him. He took a breath and decided that maybe letting him in on his surprise might cheer him up. He went over and poured out a tumbler of the water and handed it to Sam. "Um. I have a surprise for you."

After he drank the water, Sam put the cup back on the table. "I've never been so scared," he said not having heard Al. "I just kept wondering if that's what Dad felt when it happened."

Al heard the emotion in Sam's voice and realized that this event had triggered something in him. He decided to go with that and let Sam get whatever it was off his chest. The surprise could wait. He lowered the safety rail so that he could sit on the side of the bed. "You mean when he had his heart attack?" he prompted gently.

Nodding his head, Sam picked up the cup and drank more of the water. "He was alone when it happened. No one was with him."

Al wasn't sure what to say. He just decided that maybe the best thing he could do was listen.

Sam returned the now empty cup to the table. "Thank you. Thank you for just being there and holding my hand."

"I wouldn't leave you, Sam. You know that."

"I know, I just..." Sam covered his face with his hands taking several deep breaths trying to calm himself. The soft beeping of the heart monitor on the wall behind him had picked up pace slightly. He turned to glance at the readings on it. He knew that if his heart rate went up too high, an alarm would go off. "I'm sorry. I feel like I have no control right now."

"That's understandable. The Doctor said that this was a potent mix for you." Al began to gently rub up and down Sam's arm trying to soothe him. "Right now, we just have to make sure you stay as calm as you can so it doesn't happen again." He was quiet for a minute. "I should have seen the signs."

"Please, Al, please don't do this."

"Don't do what, Kid? What am I doing?"

"You're going to say it's your fault and that you should have done something to stop any of this from happening or that you're an unlucky charm or something." Sam took a shuddering breath and turned his face to the window again. "I can't go through that again, Al. I just don't think I'm strong enough for it right now and if I'm not, I might say something that I don't mean that hurts you." He turned to look at his friend, his eyes pleading. "Please."

Al couldn't imagine that the man lying in the bed could ever intentionally or even unintentionally do something to hurt him. It just wasn't in the kid's make up. He'd chided him before about being terminally good but there was some truth to that. Right now, even if he did feel like he bore some responsibility for Sam's condition, he just couldn't put that kind of stress on him. "Ok, Sam." He forced cheerfulness into his voice as he asked, "You haven't asked me what the surprise is? Don't you want to know?"

"You think you want to risk the consequences if you surprise me too much?" Sam asked trying to match Al's cheerfulness. "You know, if that reaches 100 beats a minute, it sets off a very loud alarm."

"I don't think this particular surprise would do that," Al answered cautiously. He hadn't thought about that, only that the surprise was likely to cheer his friend up.

Sam saw the sudden concern on Al's face. "I was just kidding, or at least trying to."

"Oh," Al answered, wondering when he'd gotten so he couldn't read the play in Sam. "Yeah..." Al started and decided that since he'd started it, he might as well finish. "It's about Farkel."

"Farkel? What about him? Is he ok?"

"Yeah. He's fine." Al took a breath. "He's on his way to New Mexico."

"He's on his way to New Mexico?" Sam echoed in confusion. "Why is he coming to New Mexico? Did someone buy him and how do you even know this?"

"Yeah, someone bought him." Al waited a beat then added, "It was me. I bought him."

"You were the one who what?" Al was right, this was a surprise. "You bought him? Why on earth would you buy a horse?"

"Well, I sort of saw him as an investment." He looked at Sam's face. He'd figured the Kid would be smiling by now but instead he saw his brow knit in confusion that mirrored the confusion in his eyes. "I thought you might like to have him closer."

"An investment?" Sam realized that having grown up on a farm, he knew a little more about animals than Al did. Maybe the older man didn't realize that Farkel would never be the kind of investment that would pay off. "You don't know much about horses do you, Al? An investment would be a race horse or one that could be put to stud. Farkel's a packhorse and, in case you didn't notice, he's a gelding. He can't be put to stud."

"Not that I make it a habit to check but, yeah, I did notice," Al responded, a bit hurt that his surprise wasn't working out the way he'd planned. He'd been sure that this would have put Sam in a more euphoric mood. He certainly hadn't expected him to question it as a business investment. That, at least, he could make clear. "Besides, I wasn't planning on breeding him, Sam. What would I do with baby horsies?"

"Well, if you're investing in a horse, that's usually why." Although Sam was inwardly pleased that he'd be able to see Farkel again, he still didn't understand what Al could possibly have planned for the animal. "So why did you buy him? What kind of investment did you plan on him being?"

Al got up from where he was sitting on the side of the bed. This wasn't going quite as well as he'd hoped it would. "Remember your neighbor? Mr. Perez It's like I told you. He has that horse therapy group. I thought Farkel would be a natural for that. Gentle and easy going." He figured based on the way Sam was acting that if he told him he'd bought the horse for him, he'd just rake him over for buying a horse that wouldn't produce anything.

"So you're going to sell him?" Sam was becoming even more confused by Al's explanation and also a little sad that Farkel would have a new owner. "I don't understand how this is a surprise."

"No. I wasn't going to sell him." Al took a deep breath. "Maybe Verbena was right."

Sam massaged his temples growing more and more confused by Al's cryptic answers. "What's Verbena got to do with this?" He was almost afraid that the answer was only going to add to the confusion. "Either you're making no sense or I'm still under the influence of those drugs."

"She had sort of the same reaction." Al decided he should just blurt it out and let Sam go into detail of what a bone head idea it had been. "I bought the horse for you, Kid. The two of you seemed to have a bond and I decided there'd be no one better person to own him than you. I know, dumb huh?"

Stunned silence from Sam greeted Al's announcement as he digested what his friend had told him. Even if Farkel wasn't a prize racehorse or stud, buying him wasn't like buying a hamster. He still would have cost dearly. "For me? You bought him for me? He's mine? Why?"

"Cause he makes you happy. I told you he was an investment."

"Al...I..." Sam shook his head slowly. "I should tell you this is a crazy idea. I should tell you how dumb this is but all I can say is thank you."

"You're ok with this?" Al wasn't quite sure what to make of Sam's reaction. This entire scene hadn't gone like he'd imagined.

Sam didn't immediately answer Al. He wanted to choose his words very carefully and make sure his friend knew exactly what this meant to him. "No one, besides my family, has ever done something like this for me. I know how much this must have cost you and that you'd do that just to make me happy...Al, just knowing you'd want to do that for me means more to me than I can ever tell you. That you actually did it leaves me speechless."

Al smiled at him. Hearing his friend's sincerity warmed him inside. This wasn't exactly what he was going for but it was more in line with what he'd hoped the news about Farkel would bring his buddy. "You deserve him, Sam. I saw how the two of you were." He paused. "He'll be arriving later this week. I was planning to find a stable to house him tomorrow or the day after."

"It's gonna be good to see him again. Thank you, Al. Thank you so much."

There was a light knock on the door before Verbena stuck her head in. "Is this a good time to come back?"

"Al bought me a horse," Sam blurted out happily when he saw Verbena. "He bought Farkel."

The woman looked over at Al. "You told him? I thought you were going to wait until the horse got here."

Al shifted slightly, 'Yeah, well...I just figured it might cheer Sam up and I hate to keep secrets."

"Well, it looks like you succeeded in making him happy," she answered, catching the broad smile on Sam's face. "You do seem very happy."

"Wait 'til you meet him, 'Bena. He's such a good horse."

"I'm sure he is and I look forward to making his acquaintance." She turned to Al. "What's your plan tonight, Al? From past experience I know it's a bit difficult to get you out of the hospital. I have to be at work tomorrow, though, so I'm going to be leaving soon since I have a few things I need to get done. If you need a ride..." she trailed off.

At the suggestion that Al would be leaving, Sam's demeanor suddenly changed becoming fearful. "Don't go. Don't leave me alone here."

Al was torn. On the one hand he was tired and at least one of them should be going into the project tomorrow. On the other, Sam wasn't out of the woods yet. The sound in the Kid's voice solidified it for him. "I won't leave, Sam. I'll stay here as long as they'll let me stay."

"I'm afraid I'll have dreams again and they won't understand. I don't want them to restrain me."

Al soothed him rubbing his shoulder gently. "I won't let them." He glanced at the heart monitor hoping that there was no change on it. "Just settle down, Kid. I'm gonna be right here and I'll make sure you're safe."

Verbena watched as the two men interacted and once more was struck by the fatherly way that Al treated his friend. She thought, for not the first time, that Al was a natural in that role. "Well, I'll be leaving then." She looked at Sam once more. "I wasn't kidding. You get better. The project needs you back."

"Thanks, 'Bena. Have a good night." Sam waited until the psychiatrist had left before addressing his friend. "I know you didn't get much sleep last night and now I want you to stay here. If you don't resent me already, you're going to start."

"The last week's been pretty rough on you, Sam. I wouldn't be much of a friend if I wasn't willing to stay through this with you. I seem to recall you needing to help me through some rough spots when I was drying out."

"I didn't do it so you'd have to pay me back. But if I had, I think you've done that with interest."

"I didn't think you did. I'm just saying...we're friends. Friends don't worry about who's done more or less. They just do what's needed because that's what needed."

Sam looked steadily at Al, holding his gaze. "If friendship were a lottery, I'd say I won the grand prize. I know I keep saying it and it'll never been enough but, thank you, Al. Thank you for being there whenever I need you. Thank you for putting up with all my crazy ideas - and don't tell me they're not crazy because I know some of them are. Thank you."

"You're not the only one that feels that way, Sam," Al said with a somewhat self conscious smile.

"I guess we're starting to get into that mushy stuff, huh?"

"Yeah. Sure seems like it. I guess there are times, though, that stuff like that needs to be said. I just figured that right now those drugs are sorta affecting you." Sam started to say something and Al stopped him. "I'm not saying you don't mean it. I mean it too. The thing is, I understand why it's being said now."

"Yeah, I guess. Since we're still in Mushland and I can blame the drugs, come here." When Al had moved closer, Sam reached up to pull him into a quick embrace. "Ok, we can leave Mushland now."

Al hugged Sam back patting his back lightly. At Sam's pronouncement that he had it out of his system, he answered. "Yeah. Thanks. You know I'm not a normal resident of the place."

Sam carefully studied his friend, his head tilted to one side. "You keep telling yourself that and someday even I might believe it." Before Al could contradict his assessment, he quickly changed the subject. "I'm starving. You think they'll feed me soon? The last thing I ate was breakfast and I'm pretty sure I missed lunch. It must be almost dinner time."

"Let me see what I can rustle up," Al said ignoring Sam's assessment of his residency in Mushland. As he walked to the door, there was a small knock before the door opened wide and a woman with a tray appeared. "Speak of the devil," he said using the old cliché.

She looked at Al strangely but turned her gaze to the man in bed. "Good evening Mr. Beckett. I've got dinner for you," she said with a broad smile and cheerful attitude.

"Thank you," Sam said as the woman put the tray on the table and pulled it over the bed where he could reach it. "He didn't mean anything by that. It was just that I'd just mentioned wanting to eat and there you were."

The explanation garnered Sam and Al a broader smile. Wishing him a nice meal, she exited the room.

After she'd left, he picked up the slip of paper that indicated what he'd been served. In bold letters on the top was written 'cardiac'. He turned it so Al could see it. "You're not going to be able to bring me anything while I'm here this time. I'm in the cardiac unit so they're going to control what I eat." He pulled the cover off of the plate to reveal a small piece of chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. There wasn't gravy on anything. "That means not only will the food be terrible, but it'll be bland, too."

"Is that all you get?" Al asked, looking at the mostly meager serving. Only the broccoli seemed to be in abundance.

Sam poked at the dry looking chicken with his fork. "I think it'll be enough. Suddenly, I don't have much appetite anymore." He cut off a piece of the chicken, scooped up some mashed potatoes with it and stuck it in his mouth. "Yum," he sarcastically said after he'd swallowed.

"That good huh," Al said, commiserating.

"Almost reminds me of Katie's except hers had more flavor."

"I don't know. I've eaten Katie's cooking. She's not that bad, Sam."

"Now, she is. You wouldn't be saying the same thing if you had to eat it the first time she decided she wanted to make dinner. She was 16 and I was home from school for a visit. I thought I was going to end up getting my stomach pumped."

Al smiled. "You were a good big brother to be her guinea pig. My second...no...It was my fifth wife never had cooked much before we got married but she wanted to learn. We had a few of those meals."

"It wasn't voluntary. Mom gave me no choice but to sit there and eat. She called me Samuel John. I don't argue with her when she calls me that even if it does mean food poisoning." He started to put the teabag that had come with his meal into the hot water provided but stopped. "Decaf," he said in disgust tossing it aside.

"You know they're just doing what's in your best interest."

"Ok. Then you give up your cigars for a day. After all, it's in your best interest."

"I'm not the one with the family history." As soon as Al said it, he was sorry. "Geez, Sam. You know I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Why? It's the truth. Both of my parents have had heart problems. It killed my father." Sam concentrated on eating his meal for a few moments. "You don't have stay. You're probably tired and you didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I should have let you go when 'Bena did. Now you're going to have to get a cab."

"I'm going to stay, Sam," Al answered. "But while you're enjoying your meal, I'm going to see if I can scrounge up a sandwich. Be right back." Sam had reminded him that he really wanted a cigar, but after Sam's statement, he wasn't going to tell him that.

"No," Sam said as he slammed the knife down on the tray. "I don't want you to stay if you're just gonna feel sorry for me. I don't want your sympathy."

Al had started to stand and now turned to look at Sam. "What?!" he asked. "What are you talking about?" He took a breath. This wasn't Sam talking. The mood change seemed more related to the drug reactions he'd been having.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me. How is that so hard to get? I thought I was speaking clear....ly." Sam's voice trailed off as he realized he was overreacting to an innocent remark. "Damn it! Why does this keep happening? I keep getting bent out of shape about little things."

"It's the drugs, Sam. They're messing with your emotions."

"That's just an excuse. It's got to be me too." Sam was becoming more and more frustrated with how out of control he seemed to be of himself. He wiped his hands across his face almost in an attempt to wipe away his loss of control. "I just," he started but stopped trying to gather his thoughts. "I just feel like if you're feeling sorry for me then it means maybe he was right and I am weak and don't matter." He was back to not being able to say Harry's name feeling that to do so would give him some kind of power.

Al spoke under his breath, keeping the pitch quiet enough that Sam wouldn't hear, "I should have killed him when I had the chance." He put his hand on his friend's shoulder. Louder, he told Sam, "Harry was the weak one. That's why he treated you like he did. People like that tear down the strong to make themselves feel superior. He wasn't. He was just a sadistic bastard but as long as you allow his words to affect you, you're giving him what he wanted."

"I'm trying, Al. I really am trying to forget what he said and most times, it works. Then I remember being in that tent with him and how he just kept hitting me because my knee hurt." He turned haunted eyes to Al. "I can't forget that or how knocked the food over and I just keep thinking if I'd done something different maybe it wouldn't have happened. It would have been different if I'd listened to you." Sam's eyes shifted to look away from Al. "Maybe Rick would still be alive." Al started to say something and Sam stopped him, putting his hand up. "You didn't want to trust them and you were right. You always say I'm too much of a boyscout and it's gonna get me in trouble. Well, you were right. It got both of us in trouble and Rick killed." It was obvious that Sam was feeling a level of self-disgust at the realization.

Al had stopped when Sam had put his hand up to let his friend speak his peace. It tore at him to see Sam taking on the guilt of everything that had happened. He took a breath and let it out before speaking his own peace. "You're always telling me it's not my fault. Well, I'm telling you. Both of us played it the way we thought was right at the time. Sure, I didn't trust them. I don't trust a lot of people and sometimes I should. You've taught me that. This time, I was right and it ended up biting you in the ass. Unfortunately, it sometimes happens."

"And that would be acceptable if it were only my ass but another man died. Nothing you say can change that. Rick is still dead and I can't shake that somehow I bear some responsibility for that."

Al nodded his head. "I know." He knew how hard the deaths a few month's before had affected Sam. After that time, it had taken awhile for Sam to feel comfortable around him after he'd shot the psycho that was about to make Sam his next victim. He licked at his lips. "Yeah…Rick…" He paused. "But, who knows. It's possible they would have just killed all of us at the lake if we'd refused to help them. They certainly weren't boyscouts and at the point, we'd have been no more that collateral damage to either of them." He stopped again for a beat, "But there's nothing that can be done. It would be nice to be able to change what happened and have a different outcome. That's just not possible."

"I know I can't change what happened but I need to - I don't know? I need to atone for it somehow. I need to find some way to make it right somehow but I just don't know how."

"I'm not sure how balance in the universe happens, Sam, but I'm sure you'll find someway to set the scales right." Al felt that if score were being kept, the scales were already weighted in Sam's direction, not that the kid would ever see it.

"I wish I knew how, I really do."

"Well, there isn't anything you can do right now, Kid. For now, you just need to get better and back to the project."

"Yeah, I guess that's all I can do right now." Sam poked half-heartedly at the remains of his dinner. "I'm not sure how that's going to happen if I keep eating this, though. You'll make me something better than this tomorrow, won't you?"

"Yeah. Anything you want, Kid."

"I want a thick, juicy steak, mashed potatoes oozing with butter...real butter, and tea that has caffeine."

Al gave a laugh. "Well, if that doesn't show you're on the mend, I don't know what does."

Joining in with Al's laughter, Sam asked, "So, does that mean you'll cook it for me when I get out of here or do I charbroil a perfectly good steak?"

"I definitely won't let you destroy a prime piece of meat, Sam."

"So, that's what's on the menu tomorrow." Sam sat up a little straighter feeling, for the first time since the whole ordeal had begun, just a little more confident that things were going to work out. "Better yet, I'm taking you out to dinner tomorrow and I won't take no for an answer. After all, a man buys you a horse, the least you can do is buy him dinner."

"Dinner sounds great, Kid." Al noted that Sam's eyes had regained a sparkle that had been lacking. As he thought about it, he realized he hadn't seen that really since Sam had caught the fish. "As to buying the horse, it just seemed like the right thing to do." He paused. "I was serious, though, about Farkel being good with the kids. You know both of us being at the project so much. Sort of seems like he'd be happier with people, you know?"

"Yeah, he's a real people kind of horse." Sam chuckled softly at how absurd his statement might seem then turned serious. "I don't feel like I'm going crazy any more, Al. I was really starting to think that was what was happening but knowing what was causing some of it..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know things aren't all better yet but now I feel like they can be. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah. It does," Al said solemnly. He looked down. "I was beginning to question things myself. I gotta tell you Kid, it scared the hell out of me. I don't ever want to see you face that type of thing again."

"I second that." Sam looked down for a brief moment once more carefully considering his words before looking up at his friend again. "I can't tell you I'm not still afraid that if you're out of my sight for more than 10 minutes it means he…Harry killed you. There's still part of me that's feeling that but I can tell you I'm going to work to get better."

"I know you will and you'll succeed." Al huffed a small laugh. "It would be easier for you if we were just linked at the hip or something."

"Yeah. Linked. I'm still working on that." He waved his friend in the direction of the door. "I thought you wanted to get something to eat. Although, I know you really just want to smoke one of those god-awful cigars."

"Well...I wasn't lying. I was going to get something to eat too," Al said defensively. "Besides. I haven't had one of these today," he said pulling one of his cigars out of his pocket.

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in making it 24 hours, would you? You know, just to make me happy?" Sam asked the question with an innocent smile knowing the likelihood of Al giving up his cigars fell somewhere between slim and none.

Al sighed. "Don't do this, Sam. I know it isn't the best thing to do but..." He looked at the cigar with what could only be called a 'loving look.'

"I've got to try, Al," Sam replied turning serious. "Maybe if I'd tried with Dad things would have been different. You can't fault me for that."

Al took a breath. "Yeah...I get that. Still..." He paused. "You really don't want me to smoke this?" He looked absolutely devastated.

"No but if I tell you not to, I've got a feeling I might as well tell you to cut off your arm. Go," Sam said waving to the door again. "Go and smoke it and be happy. Just...maybe someday soon you could maybe start to cut back?"

Al nodded. "I'll try, Kid. Don't know how successful I'll be...but I'll try." He turned and as he left the room called back, "I'll see you in a bit."

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About forty five minutes later, Al tapped at the door before entering it. "I'm back!"

"I'm bored." Sam turned off the TV and tossed the TV remote onto the table. "I hate hospitals. There's nothing to do."

"Hate to tell you, Kid, but that's the point. You're supposed to rest and get well, not reinvent the wheel or something." Seeing the look on Sam's face, Al quickly offered, "I can go check to see if I can find you some books or magazines."

"I guess. I just hate being here."

"Well, it's only one night. It could be worse."

"Al, I'm hooked up to that thing," Sam said pointing in disgust to the heart monitor. "I can't get out of bed because it's a short leash. You wanna tell me what's worse than that."

Al paused and looked over at his friend before saying dryly, "I can think of something a lot worse than that." He didn't say it but this whole thing had started with him wondering if he was going to lose Sam.

It took just a second for Sam to catch on to what the older man was suggesting. "I guess I shouldn't be complaining," he said more subdued. "Especially since this is my fault."

"It wasn't you, Kid." At the look that Sam gave him Al amended what he said, "I mean, ok, it was 'you' but it wasn't really your fault. Who knew you'd have that reaction?"

"I should have known what taking all those medications could do but I wasn't thinking straight. All I could think about was that they'd make it stop hurting and make it so that I wouldn't even think about anything that had happened." A humorless laugh escaped him. "Hell, I didn't even get that. This must be the first time taking that stuff didn't knock me out."

"Well, not much anyways," Al said, thinking about how Sam had slept on the plane. He let out a breath. "I understand not wanting to have to deal with the pain. That's just human, Sam."

"I know that, Al. I really do. I just..." Sam took a breath and let it out slowly. "I just expect more from me, you know? I should have known better but I didn't and I know that's human. It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No. You don't have to like it but you don't have to beat yourself up either. Ok. So this time things didn't work out too well. Learn from it and move on."

"Trust me; this is one lesson I'm never going to forget." Wanting, if only for a few hours, to just push off dealing with everything that had been happening, Sam changed the subject. "I'm still bored. I thought you were going to find something to occupy me."

"Ok, Kid. I'll do that. Be right back." Al gave Sam a smile before going out. He was back about ten minutes later. Walking in, he had a couple of older news magazines, a _Better Homes and Gardens_, a detective novel, a cheesy looking sci-fi story with a giant ant on the cover, and a well thumbed _Reader's Digest_. "Sorry, kid. Not much around."

"Yeah, looks like it. What do you think the chances of finding a deck of cards in the gift shop are?"

"I don't know. Couldn't hurt to check I guess." Al again left but was back in the room less then a minute later. "Terri had a deck in the desk drawer." He said, holding up a deck of cards with a rubber band around it.

Sam brightened when he saw he saw the cards. It was something that would keep his mind occupied and drive away the continuing boredom. "I'd suggest getting some M&M's and I could win your car from you but I bet if you tried to bring chocolate in here, you'd set off some kind of security alarm."

"You're not that good," Al said with a smile. "So what do you want to play?"

"I don't know. Anything beats just lying here...and you wouldn't want to bet on how good I am, would you?"

"Sam, I've played with you, remember?" Al started shuffling. "How about gin rummy."

"Yeah, I know you have but I guess you don't remember how things went. Remember after we played in DC? You wanted to take me to Vegas."

"That's true," Al conceded. "You were pretty good." He pulled the table over and started dealing the cards. "I'm just saying, you wouldn't win my car."

"You just keep thinking that way." Sam picked up the cards he'd been dealt and fanned them out. He smiled when he saw the hand he had. "Yup, Al, you just keep thinking that."

"I will, Kid, 'cause you don't have a poker face. You don't know how to hide when you have a good hand."

"Oh, and how do you know I have a good hand?" Sam inquired as he laid down a card.

"Your eyes tell me, that's how."

The two played gin rummy for about an hour before Al found it impossible to stifle a yawn.

"Am I keeping you awake or you just trying to find a way out of me winning...again?"

Al waved him off. "Nah. Not that. Just tired." Another broad yawn graced his face. Sam was right. He'd won every hand since they started playing. Al figured that at least part of that was the fact that he hadn't had much sleep the night before. Of course, if Sam were counting cards, that could be a factor.

Sam put the cards he held in a neat pile and put them on the table. "You should go home so you can get some sleep."

Another yawn started and during it Al voiced his plan once more. "I'm going to stay here tonight. Remember? We talked about it earlier."

"But..." Sam started to object but stopped. He knew that Al could match him for stubbornness. As comforting as it could be to have Al nearby, he also wanted his friend to go home and get some real rest. He'd have to find a different way of achieving that. He watched as Al yawned yet again and sympathetically joined him. As he did so he realized that he was also getting tired and that his sleep hadn't been much more restful the night before than Al's had.

"But what?" Al asked.

"Nothing. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"You're worried about me?" Al started. "What's there to be worried about? You're the one in the hospital bed."

"Yeah, well, I don't want you in one too." Sam picked up the cards from the table and started to shuffle them. "If you're not going to go home, let's play another hand." He'd try again in a little while to get his friend to leave.

They played for another 45 minutes. Al kept yawning and Sam felt his own reserves draining. Finally, he put the cards down again. "I'm beat. I think I'd like to get some shut eye now. You sure you won't go home?"

"Why are you all of the sudden wanting me to go home?" Al asked, confused. Sam had been worried earlier about the possibility of restraints.

"I told you. I'm worried about you. You're tired and should sleep in your own bed. I'll be ok...really."

Al looked at Sam, trying to determine if he was trying to pull the wool over his eyes. He didn't get any vibes to that effect. "You sure? I'm willing to stay if you think..." Before he could finish, Sam jumped in again.

"I'm sure." Another yawn almost split Sam's face. "I'm tired and I don't think I can sleep if you're sitting there watching me." He looked at Al with the puppy dog eyes he knew his friend found hard to resist. "You do want me to sleep, don't you?"

Al let out a breath. He wasn't sure this was the best idea. He decided that he'd ask the nurses to give him a call if anything went awry. He figured if he stayed at his apartment he'd only be ten minutes away. "Ok, Kid. I do want you to sleep." He picked up the cards and put the rubber band back on them. "I'll be back in the morning."

The abruptness of Al's decision caught Sam slightly by surprise. Even though the older man was doing what he wanted, he just hadn't expected him to get up and go so quickly. "Um, yeah. Have a good night."

Another yawn was Al's first answer. He had the feeling that his answer was true. He'd be back in the morning. He just wasn't sure how soon after midnight the call would come. A little sleep would probably be a good thing to prepare for that. "You too, Sam."

"Al, you sure you're ok?" Sam asked in concern as the other man started for the door.

Al turned. "I'm fine. I'm a little tired, that's all."

"Ok, I was just checking. I'm not used to you just getting up and leaving like that. Have a good night."

Al laughed lightly. "You know, sometimes you're hard to figure out. You want me here, then you tell me to go home, and then when I do, you think there's something wrong. Stop worrying, Kid. Just get some sleep, ok?"

"I'm not the only one who's hard to figure out." Sam picked up the pitcher of water. "You wouldn't mind filling this before you leave, would you? I would but...." he pointed to the wires leading from the patches on his chest.

Al turned back and took the pitcher. This had the feel of Sam's actions in the hotel room earlier when he'd used such subterfuge to get Al to stay. Al just couldn't understand why Sam would be doing it now. Before going to fill it up he asked, "You sure you want me to go, Sam? If you want me to stay, I'll stay."

"Yes, Al," Sam answered as patiently as he could. "I want you to go home and sleep in your bed. I'd also like some water. You can feel that that's just about empty, can't you? Trust me, I'd rather get it myself but I can't right now. If you don't want to fill it, that's fine, I can ask a nurse. I just figured that since you were here."

"No. I'll do it." Al went to the sink and filled up the container with cold water. Bringing it over, he put it down. "Anything else you need?"

"Unhook me?" Sam said with a hopeful smile even though he knew that wasn't going to happen. "Nah, that's all." Using the bed controls, he put the head of the bed down. "I'll just get some sleep now." He pulled the blankets up, fighting a bit not to tangle them in the wires. "You go on and have a good night."

"Wish I could unhook you but I can't." As Sam started to pull himself together to sleep, Al reached over and started to straighten the covers, making sure they didn't interfere with the wiring. "You know all you need to do is have them call me, right?"

"I know." When Al started to straighten out the blanket, Sam felt some of the worry for his friend melt away. This was the Al he was used to. The one who made sure he was comfortable before leaving. He nestled his head into the pillow getting comfortable. "I'll see you tomorrow, Al." His words were partially garbled in a yawn.

"Ok, Kid. Pleasant dreams." Al watched for a moment before starting to the door. "Rest easy, Kid," he said as he brushed his hand over his friend's head. He didn't hear an answer and assumed Sam was already entering sleep. "Night, Sam," he said softly as he slipped out the door.

Before going back to his apartment, Al talked with the nurses, first calling for a taxi and then making sure they had his phone number and letting them know they should call him no matter what the time should Sam have difficulties, especially if that would mean the need for any restraints. With their promise to call, he let out another yawn as he waited for the elevator to take him to the waiting taxi.


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Once Al was back to his apartment, he had a dilemma. If he did what he wanted to do and went straight to sleep, the groceries he'd left on the counter at Sam's house would continue to deteriorate. With a sigh of frustration, he decided that as tired as he was, leaving the stuff to rot wasn't a very responsible way to deal with that situation. With that thought in mind, he went over to Sam's and took care of the groceries. It upset him to waste much of the food, but he really didn't see that there had been any other choice.

About an hour later, he returned to his apartment. The first thing he did was check the answering machine hoping that he hadn't missed any call. Nothing was recorded and he smiled, thinking that the kid at least seemed to be getting some rest. Turning off the lights, he went into his room and got ready for bed. He didn't think he'd be sleeping long. Rather, he figured maybe an hour or two at the most but then he'd be called back to the hospital. It had happened that way enough times. With that in mind, he laid out his clothes so that he'd be able to get back into them quickly.

At first it was hard for him to fall asleep. He kept waking up and checking the clock. The last time he read it, it was 2:27 am. After that, he' didn't wake again until morning.

It was a surprise when he opened his eyes and realized that day had broken - at least an hour before by the looks of it. "Damn! I must have slept though any phone call!" he berated himself.

Thinking that he hadn't provided the help that Sam probably needed, he quickly put on his clothes and went to the hospital, nearly getting a ticket in the process. It was just dumb luck that there was a woman that pulled out in front of him that caused him to slow his speed.

Reaching the hospital, he quickly parked and went directly to Sam's floor. He was about to burst into his friend's room when a nurse tried to stop him. "Sir, I'm sorry but visiting hours won't..." she started to say, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"To hell with visiting hours," Al growled. He shook her hand off and pushed his way to Sam's door.

"Sir, please wait." The nurse tugged on Al's arm pulling him to a stop. "You can't go in there right now, sir."

"And why the hell not? I want to know how Sam is." He looked away, continuing to berate himself. "I realize I wasn't responsive to any calls last night but I've got to help him now."

"Sir, there were no calls last night," the nurse said in confusion. Tugging gently, she was able to steer him away from the door.

"No calls?" Al asked, confused. "But Sam..."

"Was fine," the nurse finished. "I checked his chart when I came on shift this morning. Except for waking up briefly at about 2:30 because his knee was bothering him, he slept through the night."

"He...slept...through," Al said slowly. "He didn't have any bad dreams or anything?"

"No, nothing. Just some pain but he was given medication for that and something to help him sleep and was quiet the rest of the night. He even slept through the vitals check I did on him a couple of hours ago."

Hearing that Sam had been given pain meds and knowing the cause of his hospitalization, Al nearly exploded. "What the hell did you give him? Don't you know that drugs are the reason he's here?"

"Please calm down and lower your voice," the nurse chastised. "Dr. Thomas is well aware why Mr. Beckett is here. He left an order for him to have Ibuprophin if he was in pain and Benadryl if he had any trouble sleeping. That's all he took."

Hearing that Sam hadn't had anything additional to add to his recent issues, Al's stance became less rigid. "Then I guess I don't ...um..." He bit at his lip. "You must think I'm some kind of nut or something, rushing in here like this."

"No, I don't." The nurse gave Al a friendly smile. "You're just worried about your friend. There's nothing wrong with that. Now, since you still can't go in there yet since Dr. Stone is in with Sam, why don't you go get a cup of coffee? You don't want to go in there upset, do you?"

"No. I don't." Al took a breath. "And thanks for understanding."

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Once in the cafeteria, Al was glad the nurse had intervened. If Sam had actually gotten a good night's rest, his bursting in would only have served to upset him. He waited there, having coffee and thinking through things until visiting hours started, which was about thirty minutes after he arrived. This time when he walked to Sam's door, the nurse simply gave him a smile. He tapped loud enough that Sam would hear before opening the door slightly and sticking his head into the doorway. "Hey, Kid. I hear last night went pretty good."

"Hi, Al. Yeah, I had a good night," Sam answered. "I hope you brought some clothes for me. Dr. Thomas was in earlier and he said I could probably go home today. He just needs the results from one more test. And Dr. Stone just left a few minutes ago. Guess what?" he asked brightly.

Al looked at Sam a little sheepishly. "I...um...I didn't think to bring anything, Sam." Hell, he'd been in such a hurry this morning that he'd hardly dressed right himself. "I'll ask Bena to bring some over if that's ok." He heard the happiness in the Kid's voice. "What?"

Sam waved off Al's offer to have their friend bring him clothes. "I'll just wear what I had on when they brought me in. Verbena doesn't need to make the trip." His smile got brighter. "Dr. Stone said no surgery for me...at least not right now."

"Your leg's ok? That's great!" Al answered, smiling. With all the things that seemed to befall Sam, not needing surgery was like a major coup.

"Well, it's not ok," Sam corrected. "I'm going to need to do rehab on it and somewhere down the road I'll probably need the surgery to reconstruct the ACL but for now, I don't need to do it."

"Oh." There was a small pause. "Well, that's better than immediate surgery and rehab's not so bad."

"You don't seem happy about it." Some of Sam's earlier joy faded away. "I thought you'd be happy for me."

"Of course I'm happy for you, Kid. I was just hoping that you'd be able to get away without needing any kind of surgery."

"Well, I could but that would mean having to give up marital arts and basketball. I don't think I want to do that yet."

"No, I don't think you would." Al pulled the chair in the room closer to the bed and sat down. "So, Dr. Thomas give you any idea how much longer it might be?"

"Well, he said about another hour for the last test result and that was about 45 minutes ago. I guess he should be back any time."

"Ok." Al nodded his head towards the door. "You want me to get the cards again and we can kill time until he gets here?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

Al didn't get more than a few steps toward the door when the nurse he'd spoken with earlier came in. "Dr. Thomas just finished looking at your test results. He's putting your discharge paperwork together now. I'm going to disconnect you from everything and you can get dressed while you wait."

"Hey, great news!" Al exclaimed.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I can't wait to get out of here." Sam realized how what he'd said could be taken and quickly tried to make amends. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It's just…well…you know…it'll be good to get home."

The nurse laughed softly as Sam tried to get himself out of his verbal faux pas. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Beckett. I know exactly what you mean." She taped a piece of gauze where she'd pulled the IV out then disconnected the heart monitor. When she pulled the adhesive pads from his chest, Sam couldn't help but bite back a grunt of pain. "Sorry," she apologized. "You're all set." She gathered up the used heart monitor pads and the IV and left the room with them.

Al winced sympathetically for his friend. "That had to hurt."

"Yeah. Kind of smarts," Sam agreed rubbing his chest. He started to get out of bed but stopped looking around. "Darn, the crutches are at home. I can't get around well without them."

"Ok, calm down." Al had a feeling that the lack of crutches would be viewed by Sam as some kind of setback. He didn't want to give him a chance to even start to get worked up about it. "You just sit tight. I'll go talk to the nurse and let her know. This is a hospital. I'm sure they can help you out."

Not waiting for his friend to respond before going out the door, the older man was back a little over five minutes later. "It's all set. Someone from the physical therapy department is going to bring up a pair you can borrow. In the meantime, how about if I help you get dressed?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. I'm just not sure where they put my clothes."

Al went to the small closet and opened it. Only Sam's sneakers were there. He next checked the drawer and found Sam's clothes, neatly folded. "They're here."

Sam took the pile of folded clothes, shook them out, and smirked. "I guess I'm wearing this in public despite all of your orders to the contrary." He pulled on the black over-sized t-shirt with the bright yellow smiley face on it. He debated whether he should take the brace off his knee and put it on over the sweatpants or just leave it under. He decided it would be easier not to take it off but that meant he couldn't bend his knee to get the pant leg on. He held them out Al. "Can you give me a hand with these...and my socks and sneakers? I can't bend that leg enough to do it myself."

"Yeah, sure." As Al helped him he told him, "You could always wear it inside out."

"Huh? Wear what inside out?"

"The shirt."

Sam looked down at the shirt and then at Al curiously. "Why would I want to do that? It's just a shirt. You're the one who has a problem with it, not me."

"Yeah, but I really hate those things. They're just so...I don't know...annoyingly happy."

"Ah ha." Sam pointed a finger in Al's direction. "Now it comes out. That's why you never wore it after what's her name gave it to you for your birthday. It wasn't 'cause it was too big. You just didn't want anyone to think you were annoyingly happy." Once Al was done pulling the sweatpants up his legs and putting on his socks and sneakers, Sam stood up to pull the pants to his waist. He made sure to pull the drawstring tight to keep them from falling. With his clothes in place, he sat back on the bed. "It would just ruin your image."

Al appraised Sam as he sat on the bed and held back on the feeling to chuckle at the site. With the bright, oversized clothes, hair still tousled from sleeping, and bright smile on his face, Al couldn't help but think naughty child for just a second. He quelled his humor doing his best to look stern. It did bring him a feeling of relief, though, to kid with Sam like this. He was beginning to think this day wouldn't come again. "No," he said slowly. "It was too big as is evident by the fact that it's even a big on you." A beat later he added, "The fact that it would give someone a diabetic sugar rush is beside the point."

"It's oversized and comfortable." Sam paused for a moment. "Why do you always critique my clothing choices?" he asked curiously. "I never say anything about yours and...well..." He waved his hand in his friend's direction taking in the red suit, black shirt shot with silver threads and matching skinny red tie.

"What?" Al questioned indignantly at the insinuation that his wardrobe choices were a misstep. "This was in a _GQ_ layout. It's high fashion, Sam."

"Really?" Sam's eyebrows rose up as he questioned his friend's wardrobe defense. He continued to play along with what, to him, had become a game. "That was in a _GQ_ layout? What was it? The Disney edition?"

"Ha Ha. Funny, Sam," Al's eyes narrowed as he spoke.

There was a knock at the door then a woman came in carrying a pair of crutches. "I think I've got what you need," she said to Sam. "Let's just make sure these are going to work for you."

Sam tried out the crutches making sure they were the right height for him. After a small adjustment, he and the therapist were both satisfied with them.

As the therapist left the room...Dr. Thomas walked in with the paperwork. "What was Mandy in here for?" he asked. He was holding some papers in his hand.

Sam held the crutches out. "She was bringing me these so I could get home."

"Ah," his doctor answered. "That's a good idea. I would have thought you had some of those already."

"Well, yeah, they're at home. I didn't bring them in the ambulance," Sam pointed out. "And Al didn't bring them with him because he didn't know I was going to go home"

"Yeah. What he said," Al agreed.

Dr. Thomas shrugged. "Oh well, guess it's good that PT was able to help." He held out the papers. "I think I have something else you're wanting."

Sam happily took the papers being held out. "Oh yeah. Do I have to sign anywhere?"

"Of course. This wouldn't be a hospital if you didn't," Dr. Thomas quipped. "I think all the spots are highlighted." He paused. "Usually a nurse takes care of this, but they're all busy right now."

"Thanks for not making me wait." Sam took the pen the doctor offered him and started to sign in all the indicated places then handed the papers back.

The doctor pulled out a few of the sheets. "Be sure you read all of these. They tell you what to do once you're home and what not to do." He paused again. "I suggest that you keep these drug interactions in mind in the future."

"Yes, Sir. I don't think I'm going to be taking anything stronger than aspirin from now on." Sam flipped through the sheets he'd been handed. He stopped at one down the bottom. "Uh, this is a prescription for Percocet. I don't understand."

"I said interactions. You still may need to manage your pain. "I trust that you'll only use the Percocet if nothing else works."

"After all that's happened, I'd rather not use it at all." Sam reached over to hand the prescription to Al. "Why don't you hang onto that for me."

"Sure, Kid." Al agreed.

The doctor gave them the rest of the information they needed and then Sam was able to leave. Al asked if he wanted to go anywhere and Sam just sighed and said he wanted to go home.

"Let's get you home, then."

There wasn't much traffic on the road and the drive home seemed shorter than usual. Al couldn't help but noticed how relieved Sam seemed to be when his house came into site.

They went in through laundry room and Al suggested that it would be a good idea for Sam to settle down in the living room so he could get off his knee. When they walked in, there was a flashing light on the answering machine.

Sam stood over it watching the light blink on and off before turning away from it. "I can't deal with it now. It's probably just Weitzman telling me I'm fired." He started to walk toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna find something to eat since breakfast wasn't all that edible then I'm going to lie down for a while in my bed where I'm comfortable."

At Weitzman's name, Al's eyes grew. "Oh shit. I haven't called him yet." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah, Kid, you go do that. I'm going to use your office. You're not getting fired. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but you're not getting fired."

"Knock yourself out," Sam called over his shoulder. "But I really don't want to talk to him. I'm not sure I wouldn't end up making it worse."

"Ok. That's probably best for now." Al went back to Sam's office and closed the door. He looked at the Einstein picture over his buddy's desk. With a wry smile he addressed it. "I wish this was as easy as Relativity, but I have the feeling that Weitzman's going to act like he's the center of the universe again." He knew this wasn't going to be easy but he needed to take care of the situation.

After dialing the number, it rang a couple of times before being answered by Weitzman's secretary. Al asked to be put through. As he waited on hold, a technique that he was sure was Weitzman's way of getting the upper hand; he considered how he would handle this.

The phone was finally answered. "What the hell is going on out there, Calavicci?"

This was one of those times he needed to be firm but accommodating. He decided to get quickly to the point. "Good to talk with you too, Sir. Well, Sam and I went on a vacation and things went a little caca."

"A little caca? Really? When have you two ever gone anywhere and not had that happen? I'm beginning to believe that a stipulation should be added prohibiting the two of you from travelling together should there be any continued funding."

"Um, yeah. Anyways, we ended up being kidnapped by a couple of bank robbers and..."

"You what?" the senator asked incredulously

"Bank robbers. Sam was injured and given some drugs which caused a reaction."

"Wait a minute," Weitzman interrupted suspecting he was being given a load of garbage. Bank robbers?" he question cynically. "How was he injured and what was he given."

Al pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Even knowing he was telling the truth, he knew how far-fetched the story he was about to tell would sound. That Weitzman was constantly looking for some kind of excuse to shut them down only meant it would be that much harder to convince the man. "We went fishing in Idaho. While we were there, these yahoos robbed a bank, killed several people, and then found their way into our lives." He wasn't ready to get into the full details, especially with Wietzman. "After a couple of days of hell, Sam and I got out of the situation but Sam was injured. The doctors gave him an anti-anxiety drug, pain killer, and muscle relaxant. They didn't mix well in Sam's system."

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me the outburst I heard from Dr. Beckett the other day, when he told me that I could basically take my attitude and shove it into an unnamed orifice, was drug induced?" The Senator was obviously not amused. "I don't care who you ran into. I just don't think your story holds water. How stupid do you think I am, Admiral?"

"I don't think you're stupid sir." _Just an egotistical megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur_, Al thought instead.

The words that came out next were the words of a man who would latch onto any excuse to take someone down. "No. This time Beckett's gone too far. I will not be spoken to in that fashion by anyone. I don't care what the cause was. Beckett knew what he was doing."

"Sir..."

"Listen to me, Calavicci. If you try to get him out of this one, you can suffer the consequences with him. You get me?"

"Sir..."

"I have nothing more to say. That pet project of Beckett's is about to have the plug pulled. You can tell the good doctor that." The phone went dead.

Al looked at the earpiece of the phone. "That went well." He decided he wouldn't give Sam all the gory details. He'd be honest, of course, but that didn't mean he had to tell him exactly the hole they were in. At least until he got them out of it. He got up and went out into the hallway trying to think of how he was going to take care of this situation.

Sam heard Al's footsteps in the hall outside the kitchen. He didn't turn to look at his friend, just asked, "So how long do I have to clean out my office?"

Somewhat shocked by Sam's almost defeatist attitude, Al told him, "This isn't over, Kid. Not by a long shot." He hoped that he'd see some of Sam's fire but his friend's words didn't give him much confidence.

Sam finished scooping the last bit of cereal out of the bowl before answering Al despondently. "I don't have it in me right now to care." He limped over to the sink with the bowl. "I'm gonna go lie down and watch TV."

Al felt maybe he could spark the fire. "Don't do this, Kid. This is your life's work. I know how much you do care about this and I'm promising you, you're not going to lose the project."

Sam took a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling. When he said that he didn't care, at the moment he really didn't. Somehow, given everything that had happened, it just didn't seem important. "I know that, Al but...I don't know. We saw someone die. His life was ended just like that." He snapped his fingers to illustrate his point. "It could have been us too and...I just don't know anymore."

Al's heart sank. He knew this was going to be with Sam for some time. "I understand that, Sam. I've seen people die for no better reason than Rick did. It's for people like him you have to succeed. We have to succeed. With your project we'll be able to see and tell their truths. You don't still think that's important?" As Sam looked at him, the pain in his hazel eyes spurred Al on. "I know you do, Sam. I know you do."

"I just..." Sam drew in a ragged breath and thumped his fist on the counter. "Damn it, I'm so tired of losing control over my emotions. I thought this was going to stop once the drugs were out my system." He drew another deep breath and tried to continue on with some semblance of control. "I just wonder what makes me so important that I get my dreams but someone else doesn't...that someone else has to die. Why does that have to happen? I can't believe it's supposed to work that way."

Al saw Sam's fight for emotional control. He noticed there was something different about it this time. There wasn't any of the uncontrolled rage or paranoid fear from before. There was just a deep sadness. "I don't know the answer to that, Kid." He reached out and lightly gripped Sam's shoulders, kneading them gently. He thought back to the time in Washington, DC when Sam had been hit by the car and how it had seemed he was walking a minefield then trying to find the right things to do or say that would help his friend. He felt like he'd been just dropped in the minefield again.

Calling on the advice that Verbena had given him, he let his instinct lead him - trusting that he'd find the right words for Sam. "I don't think that's something we get to know in this life. I don't know if we'll ever know. But I can tell you this. You have a destiny. Don't ask me how I know that but I do and I'm not going to let you give up on it just because a man who thinks he's Lincoln's reincarnation has no idea what destiny is about and is ready to use his powers indiscriminately. If this dream wasn't yours, I'd maybe agree with you, but it is yours, Sam. You've got to believe." Al looked away. "For both of us."

The request that Sam have enough belief for both of them rocked him. He couldn't bear the thought that his dearest friend may have lost faith. He nodded his head slightly. "I'm trying, Al. I really am. Sometimes it just gets so hard. I need you to believe for both of us, too."

Al looked up. "I do believe, Sam. With all I am, I believe in you. You'll do this. You'll be the first person to ever travel in time."

"Then why did you say that?"

"Because..." Al started before swallowing tightly. "Because if you give up on this, then maybe you're going to give up on me."

"Give up on...," Sam began to ask in surprise. "Why would you think that? Why would I give up on you? Al, don't you get it? The only reason I've been able to get this far in this project is because you've believed in me. The only people who ever believed in me as much as you do are my parents but you're the only one who could help me get this far."

"And you have my word that I'll keep doing whatever it takes, Sam. You can't give up though. You just can't give up on this." Al paused. "I know this whole thing has really knocked you for a loop. Hell, I know you've faced a lot of difficult stuff since we learned we had funding. But I also know you have what it takes, Kid. When I hear you saying you don't care anymore...well..." Al trailed off.

"I didn't mean it that way. I just don't really care about Weitzman right now. I'm tired, Al. Not physically but mentally. I'm just tired and I need to be able to regroup before I can find it in me to deal with him." Sam looked anywhere but at his friend. He knew he was going to ask a lot. "Do you think...is there anything you can maybe do about this? You seem to know a lot of people."

"That was my next move, Sam," Al said, hearing in Sam's voice that spark again. He started to pace as he thought through his strategy. "Weitzman thinks he's got us in checkmate. I'm not saying it isn't a tight spot, but he's nowhere close to that. His own overconfidence will be his downfall. I've just got to know that if I do this, you'll still be there with me." Al knew that fixing this would mean he was going to call in favors. A lot of them.

Sam looked pointedly down at his knee before deliberately misunderstanding Al. "I can't get anywhere fast, remember. Al, I swear, you find a way to fix this and I'll be with you every step of the way. You have my word."

Al put his hand back onto Sam's shoulder. "That's all I needed to hear, Kid. Leave it to me and everything will be fine. You just do whatever you have to and get back into top form, mentally and physically."

Sam gave Al a short nod. "I want my life back. **My life**. Not what someone told me it was and not what Weitzman wants to make it and I'm gonna get it. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to work. I have reports that I have to finish and I have some scenarios to run. That's what I'm going to do."

Al smiled. "Now that sounds like my best friend!" He was ecstatic that Sam wasn't second guessing himself.

Sam also smiled. It felt good to be confident in himself. "Tomorrow I get back to work but today, I'm gonna watch _Star Wars_ and later we're going out for dinner." His voice softened. "I owe you, Al. I owe you more than I could ever list."

"Ok, you watch your movie and then we'll go to dinner. I'm going to keep working on this until then. As to owing me..." Al shrugged. "Not anymore than I owe you. I figure that makes us even, not that I'm keeping score."

Sam made his way into the living room as Al headed back to his office again. At first he started to go to the TV to put a movie in the VCR but changed his mind and instead went to the piano by the window. He sat on the bench and thought for a few minutes before he started to play. He let himself become caught in the music he was making. It soothed him and he flowed along with it.

Al walked into Sam's office with a bounce in his step. He was going to make this right and there was no better time to start than right now. He'd just sat down when he heard the sounds of the piano filter down the hall. He tried to remember the last time Sam had played and realized it had been awhile. Hearing it now, the older man smiled. Whether good or bad, the piano had always provided a way for Sam to address his emotions on a different plane than verbal or even his conscious mental focus. It was a good sign. Al smiled. "This is going to work out," he said as he dialed the number of the first call of the many he'd make today.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Al had worked the phones all day, calling various people that had pull with the powers that be in the nation's capital. Some he called in favors, some he negotiated with, and some he just plain told what had happened and the way it was playing out for Sam Beckett. While there were a few calls that didn't go anywhere, the majority had lead to a successful conclusion. Now that Al knew that Weitzman would be under significant pressure from a variety of sources, he got up and stretched. He'd done what he could. Only time would tell if it was enough. Working out a few kinks in his back, he moved back into the main part of the house.

As he walked into the living room, he found the TV on, an infomercial about some new time saving cooking equipment making 'its pitch.' Al looked over at Sam, wondering why he'd be watching the advertisement and noted his friend was asleep with the remote in his hand. He looked peaceful. Al smiled as he went over to the TV to turn it off, not wanting to take the remote and wake his buddy.

"Whaddya doing?" Sam grumped when he didn't hear the TV. "I'm watching that."

"Oh really," Al answered. "When did you decide to go into sausage making?" He kept his voice neutral, wondering what the kid would say to that.

"Huh? What about sausage making?" Sam leaned over to toss the remote on the coffee table and stretched. "What time is it anyway?"

"I turned off an infomercial for the 'Meat Master Sausage Maker.' You said you were watching it." Mirth now had crept into his voice. "It's about 4:30."

Sam's mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of something to say. "I thought if I made my own it would save money," he weakly suggested.

"Yeah, sure. I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well, since you turned it off before I could call; I guess we won't find out, now will we?"

Al snapped his fingers. "Darn. I guess not. You'll just have to catch it the next 50 times it's on."

"Ok." Sam leaned over to get the remote again. "We could start right now."

"You've got to be kidding me, Sam," Al answered beginning to wonder if by some strange twist of fate his friend was serious. Normally, he read Sam pretty well but at the moment, he just wasn't sure. Sam sounded really interested.

"You don't want to? I thought you said you wanted to see me make sausage." Sam sat back, a hurt look on his face. "You were just humoring me, weren't you?"

"Sam, no offence, but you can barely make meatloaf. Why would you think that making sausage would be any easier?"

Sam picked up one of the throw pillows and hugged it to his chest. "You don't think I could do it." He kept his eyes downcast unable to look at his friend.

Al watched as Sam appeared to be falling into another emotional state even if it was for something he couldn't fathom the kid would actually want to do. "Ah, Sam. That's not what I meant. I'm sure you could do it. It's just....I don't see why the hell you'd want to."

Sam picked the pillow up higher so he could hide his face in it. "I just thought..." he began to say in a strangled voice. His shoulders started hitching up and down and he buried his face further in the pillow.

Al blinked. He wondered if maybe the earlier improvement in Sam's emotional control had eroded. Not really sure what was going on in the kid's head, Al moved closer to his friend. "Sam? Let me know what you're thinking, buddy," he implored. He considered that maybe he should call Verbena.

"I'm thinking," Sam forced out before looking up and throwing the pillow in his friend's direction, "that you're way too easy." He was barely able to get his words out around his laughter.

Al realized that Sam had indeed caught him - hook, line, and sinker. Granted, a good part of that was the fact his best friend had been so off kilter for awhile that Al had been worried about him. The relief he felt that this was just his friend's natural sense of humor coming through was palpable. Al laughed as well. "Yeah. You got me good that time, Kid." He once more considered that if the previous few months hadn't been as stressful, Sam would never have reeled him in that easy.

Sam's laughter eventually tapered off and he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. "What did you think I was going to do with a sausage maker? With my luck in the kitchen, I'd end up grinding my fingers."

Al nodded, ending his own laughter naturally. "Yeah. I know." He shook his head. "I guess there's just been so much stuff recently that I wasn't sure."

"Yeah, I guess." Al's reference to everything that had happened sobered Sam up. "Um, I think I'm gonna go take a shower before we go out to dinner. I might need a little help still."

"No problem, Kid." Al followed him as he walked back to his bedroom.

"You know, I did help Mom make sausages when I was a kid." Sam chose not to mention that the way he helped, was by staying out of the kitchen and out of the way.

Al stopped. "What?" He narrowed his eyes at Sam. "You're not really thinking about making sausages are you?"

"Maybe," Sam responded and continued to the bedroom.

Al shook his head. "Well, once bitten, twice shy. This time I mean it. I'll believe it when I see it."

Sam turned and smiled. "I guess an old dog can learn new tricks."

Al's eyebrows rose. "Who you calling an old dog?"

"Well, if you think it describes you...." Sam let his voice trail off, the smile on his face growing broader. He moved around his bedroom pulling out clothes and throwing them to the bed. "Those meet with your approval?"

"Depends on where we're going," Al said, ignoring Sam's dig.

"Dinner, remember?" Sam asked, his eyebrows rising. "I don't know, Al. If you're going to forget stuff like that, maybe old is the right word."

"Yeah. I know dinner," Al replied. "You know I meant where we were going to dinner."

Sam stopped on his way to the master bath. "I don't know. I guess I really didn't think about that. How about Fiorello's?"

"Yeah, then what you pulled out is fine. You know no one get's really dressy in Socorro. Hell, I bet you could get away with wearing jeans to a wedding around here."

Sam shrugged in response to Al's comment then continued into the bathroom. He started the shower so the water would warm up then started to undress. He wrapped a towel around his waist and called for Al. "Can you give me a hand getting in?"

Al walked into the room. "Sure, Kid." After Sam was in the shower with the curtain pulled, he told him, "I'll be right out here. You'll likely need help getting out as well."

"Al?" Sam questioned unsure if by 'out here' Al meant in the bathroom or in the bedroom. "You still there?"

"Yeah, Sam?" Al answered, poking his head back into the room.

"Oh, I thought you were still in here. Forget it. I'll just talk with you later."

"Ok, Kid." He went back into the bedroom where he knew he could hear Sam's call.

Sam finished his shower as quickly as he could. In the interest of saving time, he reached outside the shower to where his razor was on the edge of the sink so he could shave as well. Once he was done, he turned off the water, pulled back the curtain and located the towel to wrap around his waist again. He tried to get over the edge of the tub by himself by balancing on the sink but almost lost his balance. "Hey, Al, you mind giving me a hand again?"

Putting down the book that he'd picked up to keep his mind occupied as he waited, Al called out. "Sure. Be right there." Walking in to the steamy room again he asked, "You ready to get out?"

"Nope, thought you might like to come in here with me," Sam quickly responded.

Al blinked. "Sure, Sam," he answered with a tone that showed he didn't believe that for a second. "What is it with you tonight? You keep trying to get me to bite on stuff. First the sausages and now the shower."

"I'm not trying to get you to bite at anything." Sam leaned on Al's shoulder and let him help him over the edge of the bathtub. "Don't you agree that that was kind of a dumb question? What did you think I called you for?"

"I thought you wanted me to help you out of the shower. Just like I said I would. I just didn't expect you to ask me to join you."

Sam looked at Al quizzically. "Al, what are you prattling on about? I was being sarcastic. You do get sarcasm, don't you? I was standing there with the shower curtain opened and a towel wrapped around me and you asked if I needed help to get out. It seemed like a dumb question so I responded with a dumb and sarcastic answer. Do you understand now?" He continued looking at his friend as if he were being particularly dense on purpose.

"Gee, Sam, I have no idea what sarcasm is," Al deadpanned. He'd obviously been taking his friend too seriously. "You want to explain it to me again?"

"Ha, ha. You're a comic, Al, a real comic." Sam looked at his friend pointedly when he continued to stand in the bathroom. "Um, you can leave now. I'd rather not just stand here and air dry."

"I'm glad you like my shtick. Maybe you can catch me in Vegas the next time I perform." Al turned and walked back out. "Sheesh," he said to himself.

Sam finished drying then pulled on the pair of boxer shorts he'd brought in the bathroom with him. Suitably clothed he went out to his bedroom to get dressed. The room was empty and he guessed that Al had gone out to the living room. He debated calling him again to help with his socks and shoes but decided it would just be easier to wear a pair of loafers without any socks. That way, he could take care of himself.

Once he was dressed and had the knee brace back in place, he went out to the living room. He had his head down as he buttoned his shirt and didn't notice the room was empty. "You think we can take my Jeep this time instead of your car? No offence but it was a little uncomfortable getting in it this morning." He looked up as he finished buttoning his shirt and noticed he was the only one in the room. "Al?" he questioned. He retraced his steps to his bedroom wondering if Al had gone outside.

As he walked in the room, he noticed movement outside the sliding doors and went over to them. He saw Al sitting on the wall indulging in a cigar. "There you are."

"Yeah."

"Something wrong, Al?"

"Wrong? What could be wrong?" He nodded toward the mountains. "Nice sunset."

Sam looked out at the horizon painted in shades of pinks, oranges, and purples. For just a moment he let himself exist in this one moment and the peace it brought. He held off from speaking for a few moments not wanting to disturb that peace. "It is," he finally agreed softly.

There was a companionable silence between the two men for another few minutes as the sun finished setting. "A Chinese philosopher once said that a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step," Sam said into the silence.

Al looked closely at his friend in the dim twilight wondering where he was going with this line of thought. "So, I've heard," he mildly responded hoping that Sam would go on.

"I've got a journey in front of me, Al. Putting everything behind me that's happened the last couple of months – LA and now this. It's going to be a journey of sorts but I have to take that first step." Sam looked over to his friend. "I think I'm finally ready to take that step. I can't just be angry because of what happened or afraid. I need to conquer it. That's what you've been trying to tell me but I think I can accept that now."

Al felt just a little of the worry he'd carried for Sam these past several days vanish. If the kid was willing to face all that had happened, he knew he had the strength to deal with it and, as he'd said, put it behind him. In the end, he knew it could only serve to make Sam stronger. "How do you plan on taking this first step?"

"I'm not really sure, Al,," Sam began tentatively. When we go to the project tomorrow, I'm going to go see Verbena and ask her to help me. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I just hope…I hope you'll be able to keep me company on the journey."

Al wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders. "Sam, there's no way you could leave me behind. Anything you need on this journey of yours that I can give you, you know I will."

"Thanks, Al." Sam briefly looked down to the stone patio then back up at his friend. "I know sometimes I have to go it alone but knowing you'll be there when I need you….I think I can make it."

"I know you will, Kid." Al patted Sam's back lightly. "How 'bout we go get that dinner now. I'm thinking about a nice Veal Saltimbocca with some Risotto Milanese. I'm sure we can find you a nice pizza or spaghetti with meatballs that won't make you experiment too much."

"Hey," Sam protested half-heartedly. "You make it sound like I've never had Italian before."

"Oh…I know you've had Italian. You're just not the most adventurous when it comes to your choices." He pushed off the wall and waited until Sam was heading back in as well.

The two men went back into the house good-naturedly arguing about their culinary experiences. They were both taking a first step on a journey and both knew it would be one of many steps and journeys that they'd take. There was a comfort in knowing there'd always be a companion on the journey.


End file.
